Love Is Just A Gamble
by Melodious329
Summary: After an interesting courtship, one night in a bar changes everything for Sam and Dean. Will a non-supernatural traumatic event bring the boys closer or tear them apart? Prequel and Rewrite of I Didn't Mean To...Wincest
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is the prequel to 'I Didn't Mean To'. Actually, this is the prequel and a re-writing of the original story with more detail and then the sequel. It may take a while to finish. Takes place in season 2. At this point if y'all have read more than one of my stories, you're probably noticing some themes running through my work. I see Dean and Sam and their past in a particular way and, so some things may seem similar._

_Title taken from a beautiful song from Jim Byrnes, who is also an actor (the anthropology professor in Bugs, Season 1). _

It started innocuously enough, another hunt, familiar in its distinctiveness. They had been working a haunting in Fayetteville, NC and Dean had wound up unconscious.

Sam didn't even know what happened. He had been in the grave opening the coffin, while Dean of course had been playing bait, holding off the ghost with a shotgun. See, familiar.

But every hunt was unique and _something_ always went wrong and so, while Dean had been reloading, the ghost had touched Dean. It was strange really. They were normally getting thrown every which way by ghosts and this one just touched Dean and the older hunter just dropped to the ground like the proverbial rock. Guess it explained why the victims had no defensive wounds though.

Sam hurriedly threw salt on the corpse and then threw in the match when the ghost began advancing on Dean's unconscious, helpless form. It was always a struggle, to not immediately run to Dean's aid, but instead to be sensible and finish salting and burning the corpse.

Still, Dean didn't magically wake up when the ghost disappeared in the usual roar of anger. Sam knelt next to his fallen brother and gently slapped the lightly stubbled cheek. No response.

Sam wasn't too worried just yet, surely this just needed time to wear off. Dean didn't seem to need a doctor, his breathing and heartbeat seemed fine, so Sam would just take him back to the motel and put him to bed.

Pulling Dean into a sitting position by his jacket, Sam was thankful that this wasn't like any of the other times that he had had to carry Dean to the car. Not like when Dean had been electrocuted and Sam had to give him CPR before driving like a bat out of hell to the Emergency Department. And definitely not like the time, when the YED had ripped Dean to shreds wearing their father, when Sam had had to carry a barely conscious and profusely bleeding Dean to the car while their father's disappointment-filled eyes looked on.

However, without the panic Sam had time to realize exactly how heavy six feet of an unconscious muscular man was. Pretty damn heavy, he thought as Sam managed to maneuver Dean's weight across his shoulders and began the trek back to the car.

Carefully, he laid Dean across the back seat of his brother's beloved car. Unconscious, Dean seemed so helpless, depending on Sam to keep him safe. And Sam really wanted to keep Dean safe, to be the one that Dean leaned on. Since Dad's death, the chinks in Dean's armor were becoming wider, chinks that Sam hadn't even been aware of until after Dad's disappearance. He guessed he really had grown up at college.

Sam couldn't help glancing frequently in the rearview mirror to check on his brother as he drove. More than just Dad's death had changed things though. Sam had come to terms with a few things, had come to terms with himself and with his childhood. Knowing about the Yellowed-eyed Demon and that there were _plans_, that there were other children out there like him…it made things easier in a way. Knowing that there was a reason for things, no matter how terrible that reason was, made things easier to accept.

And he was accepting, knowing that he would have always been different…it made him glad that at least he was prepared, made him thankful that he at least had one person who would go to the ends of the earth for him.

It was late, so there weren't any people about when Sam pulled Dean from the backseat of the Impala. Of course, without any blood this time, people would have just assumed that Dean was dead drunk.

Sam supported Dean's head as he laid the other man on the bed Dean had previously claimed as his own. Then he figured he should take Dean's coat off and he pulled Dean back up to sitting. It took some maneuvering but he managed to get Dean down to just a t-shirt and then he pulled off Dean's boots. Sam thought about removing Dean's jeans but figured Dean wouldn't be too happy about that come morning.

As Sam finished tucking his brother under the covers, he couldn't help but stare. Dean was beautiful, particularly now with the harsh angles of worry and determination smoothed away in sleep.

Sam wondered whether he had always felt this desire for Dean. He had always known Dean was beautiful, had always idolized his brother. Dean was a real hero, not just Sam's hero.

Dean had always been there for him. Dean had been his mother when their own had died, his father when John couldn't be bothered, his friend when Sam had had to leave all of his others behind, his training partner, his mentor, his supporter.

Even when sibling rivalry took over, when Sam hated Dean for being stronger, faster, _their father's perfect soldier_, even then Dean had done nothing but love him. Sam had long ago stopped wanting to _be _Dean, he wanted to _have _Dean.

He remembered the first time that he had wanted to kiss Dean. Ironically it had been the day that he had left for college. He and John had had the fight to end all fights, neither one paying attention when Dean had tried to interrupt. Sam couldn't even remember where Dean had been in the room while the fight was going on.

But after Dad had uttered his infamous 'don't come back' and Sam had grabbed his things and ran out the door, Dean had followed. They walked to the bus stop together. Dean hadn't tried to convince Sam not to go, hadn't expressed all the hurt that was in his eyes. The older hunter had simply told Sam that he could always call, no matter what he needed. Dean had given Sam all the money in his wallet and told Sam to be careful.

And Sam had wanted to crush Dean to him, to plunder those full lips…but he didn't. He went to college and did some experimenting instead.

The first guy Sam had ever slept with had been pretty like Dean, with big beautiful green eyes like Dean. But he had had none of Dean's fire, of Dean's intensity. The second had had that dangerous air, Dean's cockiness, but none of Dean's vulnerability, Dean's selflessness.

Unable to resist, Sam stroked a hand down Dean's face, through Dean's hair, amazed when Dean turned into the touch with a small noise of satisfaction. Smiling to himself, Sam eventually pulled his hand away, confident that Dean would indeed be fine.

As Sam drifted off to sleep, he wondered what to do about his feelings for his brother. He wanted Dean, but he didn't want to make things worse between them.

After that night though, life was like a comedy of errors for them. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd say that God wanted him to fuck his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

As Sam had predicted, the next morning was just like the many others preceding it. The alarm had gone off a little later due to their late night activities and both brothers had groaned in response.

Sam, as usual, recovered more quickly being more of a morning person. He sat up and watched as Dean went through his morning ritual, grumbling and groaning, watched as Dean pouted his lips and stretched his muscles, buried his face in his pillow looking like an adorable five year old trying to hide from the day.

Was Dean trying to drive him insane? But no, the fact that Dean had no idea what effect his actions had on Sam just made it all the more endearing.

Eventually Dean groaned and sat up himself, scrubbing at his eyes with his fist. Then he noticed that he was still wearing jeans. That realization was quickly followed by realizing that he had no idea how he had gotten back to the motel last night.

"Man, what happened last night?"

Dean's voice was even rougher than usual, thick with sleep and Sam fought to keep the sound of it from going directly to his dick.

"You passed out cold when the ghost touched you. I burned it, but you wouldn't wake up."

"Huh."

Sam tried to suppress a smile at Dean's characteristic caveman answer and the confused frown on Dean's face.

Physically shaking himself as if to clear the fog from his mind, Dean stood and went into the bathroom for a shower.

Sam let his brother have the shower first, knowing how cranky it made Dean to have to shower in cold water and knowing that Dean did in fact shower quicker than himself.

It wasn't long before they were back in the Impala. They hadn't found a whole lot to investigate, so they were going to head into Leesville, South Carolina where there had been five deaths. Five deaths that were rumored to have been caused by a Lizard Man.

Yeah, Sam knew it was kind of stupid, but stranger things had happened. There had been sightings of the creature since 1988 and the victims supposedly had strange claw marks on their bodies and their cars.

When they finally pulled into town, there weren't many motel choices. The deaths had occurred out in the middle of nowhere, more room for the creature to hide, Sam supposed but not great for them.

Dean let Sam out at the entrance while he parked and grabbed their two duffels. The man at the desk was old and wiry and when Sam asked for two doubles, the man answered, "Only got a room with a king."

Sam mentally groaned, particularly when Dean entered the lobby then and the man smirked. But they had no choice but to take it.

Dean grabbed the room key and set off before Sam could even warn him. Sam caught up with his brother as Dean stood in the doorway of the room, obviously annoyed by the situation.

"One bed, Sam?"

Sam sighed. "It was all they had, Dean."

"Great, sleeping in the same bed with your gargantuan ass."

Dean threw his duffel on the bed. Ever since Sam shot up at thirteen, sleeping in the same bed with him was like sleeping with an octopus, arms and legs everywhere.

It hadn't been fun as teens and now, being adults, it just seemed weird. Sam had filled out in college. Dean had found a fully grown man where his little brother had been and he wasn't sure what to do with that yet. But he did know, he didn't want to be surrounded by his brother's big muscular body while he tried to sleep. It would be weird. And Sam could accidentally crush him!

Huffing again for good measure, Dean followed Sam back out to the car. All of the victims had last been seen leaving a particular bar and so they were just going to go there and eat bar food for dinner, check the place out.

Sam went to get a table while Dean placed their order at the bar. Course Dean had never walked into a bar in his life where someone didn't notice him and Sam watched as a man slightly shorter than Dean approached the hunter.

Dean had just placed their orders when he felt someone come up to stand next to him. The man ordered a beer before turning casually to Dean.

"You must be new in town."

At Dean's arched eyebrow, the man smiled and elaborated. "Small town, everybody knows everybody and all that."

Sam watched as Dean laughed. He couldn't hear what they were saying but he had seen this dozens of times before. He hated watching Dean flirt with everybody in the room, particularly when it was a guy though that didn't happen too often. Sam knew that Dean looked at guys, had seen the very familiar look of lust in those sharp green eyes.

Admittedly the guy wasn't bad looking, pale complexion like Dean, strong jaw. He was attractive though there wasn't anything particularly amazing about his features. Not in Dean's league, but…Sam wasn't going to intrude. He wasn't going to fight for Dean, if Dean wanted to spend time with Sam, Dean would.

Finished laughing, Dean asked playfully, "That a pickup line?"

The man just smiled wider, obviously pleased at the sight of Dean laughing and pleased that Dean was still talking to him. "Well, small town, don't get to practice too often." The man shrugged.

Dean knew that the man was flirting with him. The guy was attractive enough, but he didn't have sex with guys. Dean looked. He had looked at guys as long as he had looked at girls certainly, but he didn't sleep with them. He just couldn't imagine being that vulnerable with a person as strong as himself.

But he did like the attention. Dean was aware of how he looked, how people responded to his looks. It was just another weapon in his arsenal, something to be used both for personal and professional reasons. It was just his features that attracted people, not him. _He _wasn't beautiful.

Dean would rather have had attention from his family, from Sam particularly now. But Sam had always had his own concerns. It had been years since the younger hunter had vied for Dean's attention, since Sam had shown any interest in Dean's attention.

Sam didn't seem like he even wanted to be around Dean. Dean was always the one making Sam do things he didn't want to. Dean was the uncouth, hard lifestyle that Sam wanted to escape. But Dean was Sam's protector and the demon or anybody else would have to go through him first.

"So how long are you in town for?"

Dean had to drag his attention back to the man in front of him. He looked to the bar top sheepishly. "Couple days, but I've uh…got work."

The man definitely looked disappointed. "Well, if you've got some extra time, here's my number. And I hang out here pretty frequently."

Dean nodded with a small smile, tucking the piece of paper into his pocket before turning to carry the beers back to the table. Sam was looking at the laptop, seemingly not paying any attention to him or whom he had been talking to.

The elder hunter just drank his beer, watching for their order to come up. Sam pretended not to watch as Dean tipped his head back to drink from the long-necked bottle. The rest of the evening passed in the usual fashion.

In fact they almost forgot about the sleeping situation. But things got awkward as soon as they re-entered their motel room. Both men tried to act normal, but both felt awkward.

Dean shucked his jacket on a chair and went immediately to his duffel, grabbing his toothbrush. They brushed their teeth and splashed water on their faces. As they undressed, both men kept their eyes to themselves with difficulty. Dean squashed his dirty clothes back into his bag, while Sam put his into the plastic bag he kept for dirty clothes.

Dean crawled into bed first, lying down on his stomach. Sam watched as his brother wiggled around on the bed to get comfortable, Dean's boxer-clad hips rising and falling under the sheet. He waited until the performance was done, Dean situated with his face turned away before Sam climbed in himself.

"Try not to suffocate me in your sleep, ok?" Dean mumbled against the pillow.

Sam huffed as he lay down on his back, one hand behind his head. He too remembered what it was like when they slept together as kids.

He admitted that yeah, he took up a lot of space in his sleep, maybe had grabby hands, but Dean had always had selective memory about his own sleep habits. Dean was like a heat seeking missile when asleep. When they were kids, Sam had wondered if it had something to do with their skin tones, that Sam made more heat because he had darker skin.

Now Sam didn't really care why. He was more caught up in whether he was more afraid of Dean moving against him in the night or anticipating it.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: It's sad that no one seems to like this fic since I'm really happy with it. _

They woke up the next morning much as Sam had feared. Dean had moved towards the center, curling himself into Sam's heat-radiating body and Sam had sprawled his limbs on top of the other man as if Dean were Sam's teddy bear. Their faces were turned towards one another, Dean's face resting underneath Sam's chin.

Needless to say, it was an awkward beginning to the day. When the alarm started blaring the "Power of Love", Dean started and then burrowed unthinking back into his warm nest. Before Dean suddenly realized what the warm weight lying across his back and thighs was.

Jerking back, Dean shoved Sam's limbs away, groaning. "Sa-am. No smothering," he chastised in an annoyed voice, before flopping down on his back on his side of the bed.

Sam still didn't know whether to be embarrassed or pleased that he had gotten to hold Dean at least in his sleep. Dean on the other hand just felt weird. He had this weird tightness in his lower belly. For a moment, before he had realized who was holding him, it had felt good. Warm, safe, affectionate. He kind of wanted it back.

Dean looked at his brother as Sam stretched and stood. He tried to look at Sam as a man and not his kid brother. Sam was handsome, he supposed. Pretty eyes, strong-featured square face, generous mouth, the younger hunter had the ability to look both young and cute or strong and masculine. Sam was tall, definitely built, large enough to wrap Dean up…

Getting out of the bed, Dean shook off those thoughts. Sam was Dean's responsibility to protect no matter how tall or built Sam was. Dean didn't need to feel cared for, couldn't afford it. He was the one who cared, who looked after Sam.

Dean took his bath stuff out of his bag and headed into the shower.

The two brothers showered and dressed in their suits. They had to grab coffee and packaged donuts at a 7-11, not having seen a diner or a bakery yet. They headed to the coroner's office.

In a small town, it was easy enough to get into to see the corpses. Unfortunately, they really couldn't discern more than what the police report had said. The corpses had long slash marks on their bodies, occurring three together like the Lizard Man supposedly had three fingers on each hand, but the wounds could well have been a knife or garden tool or something.

It was the same with the victims' cars. There just wasn't anything to say whether this was the work of something supernatural or not.

They decided to check out the crime scene. All the victims had been found on the same stretch of road, heading from the bar back towards town along the swamp. The police didn't know why the people had stopped their cars along the side of the road, though.

They stopped the Impala and got out, plodding their way through the brush into the trees. There didn't seem to be any prints leading into the swamps, no three-toed prints at the crime scene either. Actually they had no idea what they were looking for.

Dean stopped suddenly. He couldn't discern the noise but it sounded like something coming towards him…

Something small and furry jumped out at him. Dean drew back, trying to pull his knife from his back, but he hadn't realized how close to him Sam had been standing. He stepped on one of Sam's ginormous feet and got his hand tangled in Sam's jacket as he reached back.

Startled, neither man could find their balance and they ended up falling backwards, landing in a tangle of limbs, Dean on top.

Freaked out by finding themselves pressed together again, both brothers scrambled to get up, succeeding only in tangling themselves further together.

Sam's attempts to push himself up thwarted Dean's attempt to push away, Sam's leg tangled around Dean's calf. Falling back down, Sam rolled, taking the older man with him. Their heads knocked together as Sam fell first, landing on Dean, his weight forcing Dean's breath from his lungs.

Calming himself, Sam put a hand on Dean's chest to keep his brother down as he got up first, but Dean startled at the touch. The older hunter stared at the hand on his chest, the touch seeming more intimate than surely it was meant. Seeing Dean's apprehensive eyes staring at Sam's hand caused Sam to jerk it back before he had finished getting up.

This time as Sam fell off to the side of Dean, he landed on a branch that was sticking out.

"Ow," Sam yelped as he felt the wood puncture his inner thigh.

Dean immediately jumped to attention with the sound of Sam's pain, his hand going to put pressure on the wound.

Of course, a moment later, as the initial shock had worn off of both of them, they realized exactly where Dean's hand was, pressed on Sam's inner thigh halfway to Sam's crotch.

The realization caused both men to suck in alarmed breaths. Dean felt supremely uncomfortable. He didn't understand what was going on, why he had felt so discomfited being so close to his brother, why they had both acted like graceless teenagers. He was only happy that it hadn't been the lizard man attacking them because they both would have been eaten as they fumbled.

Sam on the other hand was trying to fight the rising blush in his cheeks as well as the rising of another body part. He really wished Dean would remove his hand.

After a moment, Dean did. Dean removed his hand and his jean jacket, using the latter to tie around Sam's leg.

"Good job getting yourself hurt," Dean said sarcastically to break the awkward silence. "Geez, sometimes you're like a baby giraffe, no idea what to do with those huge limbs of yours."

They walked back to the car. Well, Sam kind of half waddled, half limped, but fortunately Dean was in the lead and didn't see. They drove back to the motel, after Dean, of course, made the prerequisite comment about getting blood on the seats of his precious car.

The awkwardness didn't dissipate though. Dean sat the younger man down on a chair and went to get the med kit out of the bathroom.

Returning, Dean said, "Can you make it out of your pants? Think you might need stitches."

Sam was certain by this point that the universe really did hate him. He must have done something truly terrible in a previous life or something.

He took off his shoes then stood, untying the makeshift bandage and, with a glance heavenward for strength, dropped trou as Dean kneeled in front of him. Sam tried not to look, it would be much better if he didn't look, but nobody had that kind of strength.

There he was, in just his boxers, thighs spread as he sat in the motel chair. And there was Dean, kneeling between his legs, hands pushing up the edge of Sam's boxers to clean the gash, Dean's plump lower lip being caught between white teeth and released, looking wet and red as he worked.

Dean didn't notice anything as he placed two careful stitches in his brother's thigh. Well, almost nothing. He couldn't help but notice the color of Sam's skin, the softness of the wiry hair, Sam's musky smell so much stronger there.

What Dean didn't notice was Sam's growing erection, not until he finished at least.

"There, Sam, I think…"

Sam kept perfectly still as Dean abruptly stopped whatever he was saying, as wide, shocked green eyes turned up to look at Sam's face.

"Sam…?" Dean asked, still frozen, not noticing that his hand was still on Sam's thigh.

Sam didn't think. He leaned down and gripped Dean's face in his big hands, and he kissed Dean. It was, at first, a hard press of lips and then Sam began to move his lips gently but insistently against Dean's. He drew Dean's top lip into his mouth, sucking until Dean opened his mouth, the older man seemingly melting, giving in. The kiss became more then, open mouths moving passionately against one another, Sam's tongue dipping in to explore Dean's mouth.

Until Sam had to pull back for air, looking down on Dean with astonished eyes.

Dean saw that look of disbelief on Sam's face and went immediately into damage control. He didn't know what was going on, but he had to fix it. It wasn't Sam's fault.

"Sam, it's ok. It was just a mistake. I was there, in a sensitive area and…whatever."

Sam breathed out suddenly. "No, Dean…"

Dean stood up suddenly, backing away. "No, really Sam. We'll just forget it ever happened, it's not a big deal."

"Dean," Sam said in a suddenly forceful voice. "It wasn't a mistake and I don't want to forget it. I _want _to do it again."

Dean's brow creased adorably in his confusion. Sam continued before Dean could come up with a response.

"I want you, Dean. I've wanted you for a while, and…"

"How long?" Dean choked out, still mystified by current developments. He didn't know why that was his foremost question, it just was, just in case. Just in case the feelings had come on suddenly like a weird spell or something.

Sam blushed. "Since high school, I guess."

That long, Dean thought. "That's not…why you left is it?"

"No," Sam answered quickly. "I just wanted other things, a different life."

Dean nodded hesitantly. And **that** was why this had to stop now. It didn't matter the heat that had cooled in his belly while they kissed. Sam had always wanted normal. _This, _whatever it was, was assuredly not normal. Sam would hate him if he didn't stop this now.

"Sam, we can't. It's not normal."

"Who cares, Dean?! What does it matter whether it's normal or not?"

"Sammy. I'm doing this for you. Just forget this ever happened." Dean grabbed his car keys and headed towards the door. "I'm gonna head to a bar…just get some sleep. We gotta figure out this case tomorrow."

With pained eyes, Dean left, heading out without a jacket. Sam just watched him go.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean sat in the same bar as the night before, drinking beer as he attempted to make sense of the day's events. It was early, only about four o'clock and the bar was just beginning to fill up.

He searched through his memories of their childhood, but he was fairly certain that he had not looked at Sam _like that_ when they were growing up. And he was slightly concerned that a teenaged Sammy had been looking at him like that and he hadn't friggin' noticed.

Still if he were honest with himself, Dean admitted that he had certainly noticed the differences that took place while Sam was at college. Every time that he had stopped by Stanford, it seemed that Sam had grown up more, filled out, acquired a grace like he were more comfortable in his own skin, his face becoming more masculine and adult.

Yeah, Dean had to admit that his own attraction began when he picked Sam up from Stanford. It had just taken Sam kissing him to make Dean realize his feelings for what they really were.

God, that kiss had been hot. Dean shifted restlessly on his seat thinking about it. Sam had taken the initiative, Dean just trying to keep up as he got over his initial shock. For once, Dean hadn't been in the lead, hadn't been leading quickly toward a bed. He had just _felt_, felt Sam's big hands firm but gentle on his face, controlling but not dominating, felt Sam's lips and tongue moving over his, the light stubble on Sam's jaw catching on his own.

Of course Dean wanted to do it again. He wanted _more_. Sam was the one person Dean could see letting have that power over him. The one person Dean could let that close. Sam already held his heart. His life had always been about Sam, about protecting Sam and caring for Sam and being there for Sam.

But he couldn't. Sam still wanted normal, still had a chance at normal. Asking Sam to help find Dad had been the most selfish thing that Dean had ever done and he still didn't know whether he should regret it or not. But he wouldn't do anything more to take away his little brother's dreams.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam stood in the motel room devastated. Everything had just gotten out of his control. He had hidden this desire for years, especially since he had left Stanford. But there was no way he could have controlled his dick with Dean down on his knees in front of him.

So he had put it all out there and Dean had shot him down. He didn't know how he was going to move past this. He had never been more humiliated in his whole life. Dean had said forget it but that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

And Dean had kissed him back! What was that about? The kiss had been amazing, perfect, Dean had totally been into it. Sam had no idea what had gone wrong.

He thought back over Dean's words. Dean had said, 'it's not normal'. Well, no, incest wasn't normal, but they weren't exactly normal to begin with. He loved Dean, he wanted Dean, and, most of the time, he liked Dean.

But Dean hadn't said that he didn't want Sam. Dean had said that he was doing it for Sam. That Sam could understand. Dean was always thinking of Sam first, always thought that he knew what was best for Sam.

But this was ridiculous. If Dean didn't want him, Dean should just say so. But if Dean was just doing what he thought was best for Sam…Suddenly determined, Sam decided that he wasn't going to forget it or not talk about it. He was going to wait for Dean and then bother his brother until he got a straight answer.

As Sam settled down to wait though, he realized he hadn't had dinner and Dean had the car. Damn him, Sam thought as he searched the yellow pages for pizza delivery.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was getting pretty late and Dean was still at the bar. He wasn't drinking heavily and, in fact, was pretty bored. He had played a few games of darts, not hustling because he didn't think he could be attentive enough.

He thought of finding someone to go home with in passing. As much as he wanted to lose himself in soft curves, he irrationally didn't want to erase Sam's kiss from his lips.

Sighing into his beer, he looked up to see a familiar face, the guy who had hit on him the previous night, whose name Dean didn't even know.

The guy smiled as he sat down at Dean's table, eyes knowing. "So you couldn't stay away."

Dean didn't have the patience to be nice to this guy tonight. The kiss with Sam had only re-iterated that he couldn't have that kind of connection with any other guy.

He smiled weakly. "Not many other bars in this town, you know."

"No other reason?"

Wow this guy was forward. But he was only hoping for a hookup, no time to be smooth, Dean supposed.

"Listen, you're very attractive. I'm just not interested at the moment. Bad timing, you know?"

The guy laughed a little self-consciously, getting the message. "Figures. No way I'm lucky enough to take home a guy as hot as you."

Dean choked on his beer, his face heating up in embarrassment. He shook his head thinking that if this guy only knew. If this guy only knew what a fuck-up he was, how dysfunctional and worthless, unable to save the only people who mattered to him. Much less that if the guy knew what Dean did, he would run screaming in the other direction.

Finishing the beer, Dean stood, ready to leave. He didn't particularly want to go back to the motel room and crawl into the bed with Sam, but he couldn't stay here with this guy any more.

Climbing into the Impala, he was headed down the same road that the victims had been found on, the same road that he and Sam had been at earlier. He was surprised to see a car stopped on the side of the road with its hazard lights on.

He pulled over, not only because he usually pulled over to help a stranded motorist but because he was worried that he was looking at the Lizard Man's next victim.

Getting out of his own car cautiously, keeping attentive to the sights and sounds of the nearby swamp, Dean approached the other car.

"Car trouble?" Dean called out as he saw a figure leaning against the car's hood.

"Yeah, afraid so."

It was a man who answered, a man shorter than Dean by a few inches but thickly built.

"Well, I know a few things about cars if you want me to have a look, or I have a cell phone if you need to call someone."

The man pushed himself off, opening the hood. "If you could just take a look, I'd be much obliged. It's probably just something small…I just had a car inspection."

Dean nodded, taking the flashlight that the man held out to him before bending over the engine. It only took a moment's glance for Dean to realize that there wasn't a thing wrong with that car…

Dean turned just in time, hearing movement behind him. Sharp pain exploded as something scraped over his side while he twisted away.

The man had overbalanced, following through on that swing and not prepared for Dean to deflect. It was embarrassingly easy really. Dean brought his fist down hard on the back of the man's head as he swiveled away from the car.

With the man passed out on the ground, Dean took a moment to catch his breath as the adrenaline left him. He shone his flashlight on the weapon that the man had dropped. It was some sort of hand held garden tool, with three prongs.

Dean couldn't believe it. The Lizard Man was just a serial killer and Dean had just friggin' stumbled onto it. He was awesome! Case closed.

Moving quickly back to the Impala's well stocked trunk, Dean grabbed some rope and quite literally hog-tied the man before dumping him in the backseat of the car whose hazard lights were still blinking.

Dean admitted to himself, that he was tempted to just dispatch the man like any other evil monster who killed innocent people. But that wasn't his job. He made a quick phone call to the police, 'there's a car off the road, a man with a three-pronged tool that might have blood on it, might have something to do with the recent murders'…and the informant's name…? Click.

Dean was practically chuckling at the strange turn of events as he got back into the car. He couldn't wait to tell Sam.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam jerked out of a half-sleep as the door crashed open, sitting up to see Dean rush in excitedly.

"Dean, what're you…?'

"Sammy, I solved the case!'

"The case, but Dean, it's…one o'clock in the morning, why were you…is that blood?!"

Sam swung his legs over the side and stood up. Dean was still only wearing a grey t-shirt, the right side of which was torn and stained with blood.

At Sam's sudden change in tone, Dean stopped moving and twisted to see his right side, seemingly remembering the injury.

"Yeah, but it wasn't a lizard…"

Sam firmly turned Dean's back to him and pushed the older hunter at the motel table.

"Geez, Dean, it really got you," Sam said as he examined the wound through the gashes in Dean's shirt. "Take off your t-shirt."

Dean grumbled but pulled his shirt over his head, biting his lip as the flesh pulled. The med kit was still on the table from earlier in the day and Sam grabbed it.

"So what happened?" Sam asked as he began to clean the wounds first with water and then with hydrogen peroxide.

Dean leaned a little over the table as he began speaking. "It wasn't the Lizard Man. I was driving back from that bar and saw a car stopped. So I offered to take a look at the engine and the guy attacked me! With this weird, three-pronged, hand-held rake thingy…" Dean trailed off in his description. He didn't know a thing about gardening.

"You stopped on the side of the road, where you knew people were being killed?! Dammit, these are gonna need stitches…what were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that someone needed help, that someone might be in danger."

"By yourself?! You should have come gotten me."

"Drive all the way here?! The guy would have been toast by the time we got back…well, if the guy hadn't been the killer…and still, he might have killed somebody else in that time!"

Dean sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the first stitch go in. "Besides, I hunted by myself for four years while you were gone."

Sam bit his lip as he worked, the first of the three gashes taking seven stitches. When he had left for college, he hadn't felt guilty at abandoning Dean and their father to the hunt, it was what they wanted, what they did…but recently it had become very clear to Sam how easily Dean or John could have died while Sam had been at school. He couldn't have imagined getting that phone call, couldn't imagine trying to go through all this psychic, Yellow-Eyed Demon stuff without Dean.

He had left, thinking that he had to find his own path, that he owed it to himself to live the life he dreamed, but what did he owe his family?

It didn't matter now, because he was here, in the hunt, with Dean. He was through running away. Sam would have Dean's back from now on.

Finally finished, twenty stitches later, Dean pushed off from the table only to find Sam hadn't stepped back. Sam's hand was gentle on his brother's shoulder as he turned Dean around to face him.

"Dean, about earlier…"

Oh no, Dean didn't want to talk about that again. He pushed past Sam, his shoulder knocking against Sam's broad chest as he headed towards his duffel on the bed. He really wanted to put a shirt on if Sam was going to insist on talking this to death.

But before he could even get his bag unzipped, Sam's hand was on his back, shockingly warm against his skin. He turned around.

"What, Sam?!"

"We need to talk about this…"

"There's nothing to talk about, we're brothers. We're not even gay!"

Sam chortled. "Not being gay hasn't kept either of us from sleeping with guys before."

Dean's eyes were wide as he drew back against the bed as if slapped. "What are you talking about?"

"Dean, come on. You may have been trying to hide it, but I've seen the way you look at certain guys."

Dean's face hardened, the muscle in his jaw twitching in his frustration. "I have never slept with a guy."

It was Sam's turn to draw back in shock. He knew by looking at his brother's face that Dean was telling the truth.

"You have?"

Sam swallowed, not knowing why he suddenly felt uneasy telling Dean about his previous sex partners. "Yeah. A couple."

"Well, I didn't go to some hippie-dippie college to study sexual experimentation, so you should just find someone with more experience."

"Dammit, Dean! This isn't about sex."

"I thought that was exactly what this was about?"

Sam just barely resisted reaching out to strangle Dean. Nobody could rile him up like his brother…except maybe their father. "It's not _just_ about sex, Dean. It's about us, about being there for each other because we're in this together."

Dean nodded thinking that he would absolutely be there for Sam, no matter what he needed. He didn't notice when Sam began to move closer until Sam's hand was on his cheek again. His resistance was over in that moment. Dean knew that there was no way he would be strong enough to pull out of Sam's embrace.

He willingly tilted his face up to brush his lips cautiously against Sam's. Pulling back, Dean licked dry lips before diving in again, this time with more ardour, more confidence. His tongue licked into Sam's mouth as Sam pressed close, pressing Dean's butt into the mattress.

Dean's kisses were as great as they had seemed when Sam had been watching other girls be on the receiving end. Soft and pillow-like lips, teeth that nipped, and an agile tongue that teased the inside of Sam's mouth and got him thinking about other body parts Dean's tongue could tease. Dean kissed much like he did everything else, with focused attention, with compassionate ferocity.

But Sam was impatient. The thought that he would be the first man to touch Dean, the first to press inside that intimate heat…that thought consumed him.

Sam pulled back to shuck his own t-shirt and then began pulling on Dean's belt. Dean's hands were on his in a second, swatting them away.

"Take your own pants off, Sam." Dean growled, stripping himself proficiently.

Fumbling with his own pants, Sam watched as Dean gingerly slid back onto the bed, wearing just a pair of black boxer-briefs now. Finally free of the restraining pants, Sam practically jumped on the bed. Dean reached a hand to him, pulling Sam back into a kiss by the back of Sam's neck.

Pressing Dean down with his greater weight, Sam pulled away from the kiss again, moving his lips to bite and suck on Dean's earlobe before saying softly, "Fuck, Dean, I want to taste you. Can I?"

In that moment, ok in most moments, Dean would have given Sam whatever he wanted, but this request was certainly no hardship. He nodded, even as he was turning his head to the side to give Sam greater access.

Dean's hands ran over the soft skin of Sam's back as Sam's lips moved from Dean's earlobe to the elder hunter's neck. Sharp teeth dug briefly into the corded muscle standing out there.

Hips moving impatiently, Dean let out a soft moan, biting his lip to keep silent as the teeth moved on to worry at a perky nipple. He couldn't help his hands clenching reflexively, digging his almost non-existent nails into Sam's back, nor the way his back arched to press his chest closer to Sam's mouth.

Sam's lips were soft, apologetic as they moved even further down, past the three deep scratches that curved around Dean's side to end an inch onto Dean's stomach. Upon reaching the top of Dean's boxer-briefs, Sam pulled them down just enough to expose the head of Dean's cock.

He first swiped his tongue over the weeping slit, gathering the thick, bitter taste there, before stabbing his tongue in the small hole as if eager for more. Dean jerked at the sensations, throwing his head to the side as his hands came to tangle gently through Sam's soft hair.

Pulling the waistband down a little more, Sam sucked just the head into his mouth, sucking softly and then harder. Letting his teeth scrape gently against the sensitive skin, Sam listened as Dean gasped and panted for breath.

Sitting up, Sam pulled first Dean's and then his own underwear off. Leaning over Dean, Sam captured Dean's panting mouth in a wet kiss even while Sam's hand trailed down Dean's body, between his brother's thighs to nudge questioningly at Dean's hole.

Dean broke the kiss, tossing his head to the side with his eyes clenched. Sam thought maybe he had moved too fast, until Dean's head suddenly turned back, one hand pulling Sam's face to his and the other pulling Sam's hips into his own. The hands held Sam fast as Dean's tongue fucked into his mouth while Dean's hips rocked up, the hot flesh of their dicks rubbing together.

Then Dean was spreading his legs, raising his knees so that his feet were flat on the bed. Releasing Sam from the kiss, Dean's voice was hoarse but certain when he said, "Yeah, Sam. I want you to. I want to feel you inside."

Sam found himself looking down into deep green eyes, eyes looking wide and vulnerable yet serene in a way Sam couldn't remember seeing before. Dean was always in control of the situation, always putting on a brave face for Sam's benefit even when Sam knew that Dean was falling apart.

It was then that Sam knew that Dean was trusting him, trusting him with more than letting Sam inside Dean's body. Sam's enthusiasm at being Dean's first dimmed a little with that realization. Dean trusted him despite that he had often been unworthy of that trust.

For most of their life, Sam, and their father, had just taken and taken and taken from Dean, who had taken care of everything and everyone. How could Sam even begin to convince Dean now that Sam wanted to take care of Dean? But the thing about Dean was that Sam never did have to prove anything to the older hunter. Dean just loved and trusted Sam, no matter what.

And that trust just reinforced how responsible for Dean, Sam felt. Sam was being given something, something that he was now being depended on not to break. That frightened Sam, that he had so much power over Dean's life…but Sam supposed that he always had.

Sam had placed the lube on the bedside table in a bout of hopeful thinking and he reached for it. Dean closed his eyes and swallowed as Sam coated his fingers with the slick substance.

Dean felt even more impatient as the first finger slid in. He had been fingered before, done a lot of things before with a kinky girl he picked up, but this would be different. This would be Sam, thick and warm and pulsing inside of him.

Sam's finger unerring found Dean's prostate and Dean's body bowed in electric pleasure. Sam could get used to this, used to the sight of Dean's beautiful body spread beneath him, used to the feel of Dean's heat clenching around his fingers, used to the choked off whimpered cries that Dean tried to stifle.

"Come on." Dean's words were bitten off.

Sam nodded, pulling his fingers from the haven they had found.

"Condom."

Sam stopped, surprised. He didn't want there to be anything between them when they finally came together.

Dean saw the hesitation on Sam's face and repeated his words, authority in his voice. "Condom, Sam. I've had sex since the last time I was tested."

Disappointed, Sam nodded, having to get off the bed to root around in Dean's bag for the tiny foil wrapper.

"Turn over," Sam's voice was soft. Their eyes met briefly as Dean immediately complied, but though Dean's eyes were missing their usual wall of steel, they weren't afraid. The green eyes simply shown with love, the same love that had always been in Dean's eyes for Sam.

Sam placed a pillow under Dean's hips to keep them elevated and then that was it. The condom was on, Dean was ready and in position, and though Sam wanted nothing more than to just plunge in, he wanted more for this to be a great experience for Dean.

Sam's thighs pushed Dean's even wider as Sam leaned over Dean's lightly freckled back, one hand guiding his thick member to Dean's tiny entrance. The first push, Sam got about half his length inside before Dean clenched, halting the progress.

Sam waited, leaning his sweaty forehead against Dean's shoulder, his hands bracketing Dean's body as he held himself just above Dean's back. Dean had made no noise, a sure sign that he was feeling pain.

Slowly, Dean relaxed again. Despite that he felt like he had a tree trunk shoved up there, Dean focused instead on Sam's panting breaths against his skin. When the burn had subsided enough, Dean pushed his hips up, encouraging Sam to slide in even more.

It was unlike anything else, the burn and stretch, the pressure and fullness, the feel of Sam all around him, holding him, caring for him, pleasuring him, taking pleasure from him.

The friction of Sam's cock sliding in long and hard, pressing into that spot that caused Dean's back to arch, his hips to press back, his fingers to clench into the sheets. He knew that his lip would be bloody from the way he was biting it in order to keep any number of embarrassing noises from coming out.

"God, Dean. Fuck," Sam's voice was high and desperate, his chest sliding slick with sweat along Dean's muscular back. He was close. "Dean, touch yourself. Ta…touch your cock."

Dean shifted, getting more to his knees to raise his hips enough to slide his hand down. He fisted his cock fast, already on the edge and aching to go over. His orgasm hit him hard, perhaps harder than ever before, to be so full, so vulnerable and supported.

Sam continued thrusting through Dean's orgasm, watching as Dean's muscles tensed and his hips stuttered, before speeding up to tumble over himself. He continued thrusting slowly even as Dean's hips collapsed to the mattress. Sam's mouth placed wet messy kisses on Dean's shoulder, before he pulled out, gripping the condom.

Dean was in the same position as Sam returned from the bathroom with a wet washcloth, only moving when he felt the bed dip with Sam's weight. Rolling over, he grabbed the washcloth and Sam watched as the older hunter cleaned first the cum from his stomach and then swiped at the lube on his ass. Sam almost wanted to start all over again at the sight.

Dropping the washcloth on the floor beside the bed, Dean rolled towards Sam, surprising the younger hunter. Dean lay down on his stomach, right next to Sam.

"I'm not sleeping in the wet spot, Sam. Move over."

Sam smiled to himself as he situated himself, pulling the blankets up over them both. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

_Author's Note: So everything's sunshine and rainbows for the Winchester boys now...? Of course not. One good night of sex does not a relationship make, it certainly doesn't mean that they're on the same page. _


	6. Chapter 6

They awoke as tangled together as the first morning. Dean had shifted his face away from Sam, but Sam had followed so that they were half spooning, but Sam was more like lying on top of Dean, his face resting on Dean's upper back.

Sam woke first. No alarm had been set, they had been a little busy last night, but it was ok because they didn't have another case to run off to. Sam didn't want to move away from Dean, but he realized that this time he actually was crushing the smaller man. He tried to shift just his weight off Dean, but it was enough to wake the other man up.

He couldn't see Dean's face, but he knew that Dean had woken when the broad shoulders rolled. Then Dean was shifting to face him.

Sam was afraid in that moment, not knowing how Dean was going to react. Would Dean regret the night before? Would he regret having sex with another man, with Sam? Sam knew that Dean wouldn't hate him, wouldn't blame him, certainly wouldn't leave him for this, but…Dean might be upset or angry or guilty. He might try to pretend it never happened.

But Dean seemed none of those things. He seemed normal. Dean simply rolled over, Sam too stunned to remove his gangly limbs from on top of the other man. Dean bumped his arm against Sam's stomach companionably and shifted restlessly in his customary 'I can't possibly leave this bed' way.

Sam was so thrilled that Dean hadn't hopped out of bed the second of regaining consciousness, that he couldn't help pulling Dean fully against him, their nakedness fully apparent, and pressing a closed mouth kiss to his brother's still pink lips.

Dean responded momentarily to the kiss. As soon as they separated though, Dean was slapping away the hand that Sam had let wander down toward Dean's ass.

"Stay away from there," Dean's voice was a gruff rumble.

"Sore?" Sam teased.

All he got as a response was a muffled grumble as Dean pressed his face into the pillow.

Sam smiled and leaned over Dean's ear, saying in a low voice, "We'll just have to change positions then."

Dean lifted his face then, turning more on his side to face Sam. Licking dry lips, he asked, "So you like to…"

Sam knew to what he was referring, being on the bottom. "Yeah," he replied.

Dean nodded, looking as if something had just been decided in his head. Then he smirked, "Ok then."

With great effort, Dean pried himself from the bed and stood. "I got shower first and then I'll go get us some coffee. How 'bout you find us another gig."

Without waiting for an answer, Dean walked to the bathroom, unashamed in his nakedness at which Sam stared blatantly. Sam probably didn't breathe again until the bathroom door closed behind his brother.

Dean turned on the shower feeling good. He had accepted this thing between them as soon as he had kissed Sam for the second time. Sam needed him, wanted this and as usual, Dean was only too happy to give in to his little brother.

The previous night had been amazing and Dean did not regret at all Sam being the first to 'top' him. He had felt wanted, supported, cared for, protected, not to mention the electrifying pleasure that he had felt. He wanted to give those feelings to Sam.

Sam was so afraid of what the demon had planned for him, felt guilty even though Sam had done nothing wrong. The younger man couldn't find someone else, not with this threat hanging over him, not in the hunting life Sam had unwillingly returned to.

And Dean…would cherish every moment until it was gone. Sam had re-dedicated himself to the hunting cause because of this psychic stuff, because of his guilt over their father's death, but Dean knew not to think that that would be forever. Sam had said before that Dean would have to let him go his own way and Dean would. No matter how it would break Dean's heart to watch Sam walk away again, particularly after this.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam lay in bed for a long moment after Dean had left; still stunned that Dean was being so nonchalant about the whole thing.

Slowly a smile spread across his lips again though and he felt smug as he stretched, enjoying the feeling of the sheets against his naked skin. He felt as if everything was coming together, the pieces finally falling into place.

This was the first time that he really felt like he could be completely himself. Dean knew him better than anybody, knew the geek parts and the hunter parts, and now the sex parts. It was like the old saying, he only had to let go of the life he had imagined to have the life that was waiting for him.

He had just managed to put clothes on as Dean came out of the bathroom, threadbare towel around his waist, his skin still flushed from the heat of the water. Dazed, Sam wanted to go over there and rip that towel off slim hips, but didn't because Dean wasn't paying attention to Sam.

Sam simply sat at the room's small table, watching until Dean's skin was covered. The elder hunter was acting as he did every day, oblivious to Sam's staring, intent on his task. The laptop was finally powering up as Dean left the room.

By the time that Dean was back, Sam had showered and was fully engrossed in looking online for a new job. Dean had gotten breakfast sandwiches despite that it was basically lunch time and he placed a bag and a coffee cup on the table.

Dean took his to the bed, sitting against the headboard. He had bought two newspapers, one local and the US News, but he switched on the tv and flipped to a news station before opening either.

They sat there as if nothing had changed. Dean munched on his sandwich and flipped through the paper, commenting on anything in the paper or on the tv that struck him as humorous or stupid.

It was easy and yet…Sam felt weird, felt like maybe there should be more, that things should have changed. He shook off those feelings though. It wasn't as if that they had to be lovey-dovey and spend the whole day wrapped around each other. There was work to be done after all.

By four o'clock, Dean had read both papers and switched the tv to reruns of the Family Guy. Sam, despite the distraction that was Dean laughing deep and full, practically rolling around on the bed, had managed to find something.

"Hey, I think I got something."

Dean was lying on in his stomach, but shifted to one side to look at his brother.

"Man dies alone in his house, his locked house. Asphyxia but he wasn't found hanging."

"Sounds good. Where at?"

"Burleson, Texas. It's outside of Fort Worth."

"Sweet, guess we got a long drive tomorrow."

Dean rolled to his back and stretched, his t-shirt riding up to show a strip of skin on his belly. Then Dean just rolled back to his stomach and continued watching tv.

Sam frowned. Gathering his courage, he stood and went to bed. Sam flopped down beside his brother, laughing as Dean was jostled. Situating themselves, they watched tv side by side for thirty minutes before Sam got up the nerve to do more.

He scooted closer, til their legs were touching. Dean didn't even seem to notice. Thirty minutes later, Sam casually draped an arm over Dean's back.

For a moment, Dean wanted to let the arm stay. But he knew that it was too much. He couldn't allow himself to get used to this feeling of comfort and protection, couldn't allow himself to depend on Sam. Dean had to be the strong one, the one that Sam could rely on. And cuddling on the bed was too much like a relationship. He needed to stay objective about this. He had to be prepared to let Sam go.

So Dean shrugged the arm off, turning his head to look at Sam. "It's too hot for that, Sam."

Rebuffed, Sam moved his arm, but Dean didn't move further away. Sam was confused. He supposed that yeah it was kinda hot, motels were always stuffy.

They watched for a little while longer, still pressed side to side. Just before Sam was about to demand an explanation, Dean turned away, hopping off the bed.

Dean gathered his keys and jean jacket. "I'm gonna go get some dinner. Get some fresh sheets, why dontcha?"

With a smug, knowing smirk, Dean was gone out the door. Sam's first inclination was to complain that Dean had gotten to leave twice while Sam had been stuck in this stuffy motel room all day. But his annoyance was washed away by the fact that Dean had acknowledged what had happened between them, even intimated that it would be happening again. So either Dean had really been hot earlier, or maybe Dean just didn't like to be cuddly.

Grudgingly, Sam went to the front desk to get more sheets and then even more grudgingly changed the bed. He knew that it wasn't worth fighting about. Plus he figured clean sheets upped his chances of being laid again tonight.

Sam smiled at the empty room at the thought. Sam considered himself more of a 'top', and Dean had certainly seemed to be a sensitive 'bottom' but Sam knew that Dean was unused to it and probably was too sore to go again. Not like Sam minded playing catcher anyway.

Dinner was eaten mostly in silence. Afterwards Dean went back to the bed and tv, and Sam did a little research into their next hunt.

Dean watched "The Mummy" for the millionth time, occasionally glancing over at Sam engrossed in the laptop. By the time the movie was over though, he had seen more of Sam than of Brendan Fraser. He knew that he couldn't give in too much to this infatuation. They still had a job to do, **he **still had a job to do.

Still, frequent sex had never interfered before and so, Dean was up off the bed as soon as the credits were rolling. Approaching Sam from the side, Dean pushed the laptop closed.

Startled Sam looked up as Dean leaned down, taking Sam's lips in a kiss. A kiss that was full of passion and promise, definitely leading to the bed. As soon as Dean broke for air, Sam was standing up.

Sam saw Dean smile right before both men moved together for another kiss, both attempting to move to the bed at the same time. Dean's arms went around Sam's neck, the ends of his fingers playing gently in the longer hair while Sam's arms wound around Dean's waist, pressing them tightly together.

When Dean's butt hit the mattress, he let go of Sam's hair. Instead his hands began pulling at Sam's shirt and as soon as they separated, Dean stripped off Sam's shirt and then his own. This time, Dean's arms went around Sam, hands exploring the newly bared skin. Sam's hands cradled Dean's face, allowing the younger man more control of their kisses.

Dean pulled away again quickly. He needed to take back the control, so he could focus on pleasing Sam. He stripped off both his jeans and boxers, watching as Sam did the same without being told.

Dean got on the bed first, kneeling so that when Sam climbed on, he pressed the younger man down beneath him. Dean wanted to take his time, wanted to discover how Sam wanted to be touched and taken, something he rarely got to do with a partner.

Moving his lips to nip at Sam's jaw, Dean moved Sam's arms above his head, watching to make sure that Sam was comfortable with that. Dean smiled when Sam's breath hitched in anticipation.

"Fuuck," was Sam's response when Dean scraped his teeth against the sensitive skin of Sam's bicep. So Dean spent some time there, sucking a bruise into the skin as Sam moaned and thrust his hips against the thigh Dean had placed between Sam's legw for balance. Dean went back and forth, sucking on Sam's earlobe and then the other bicep, before he finally moved down Sam's neck.

Teasingly, Dean ran his tongue around first one nipple and then the other. Sam's back was arching his chest into Dean's face before Dean's lips finally closed around one pebbled bud.

Sam groaned long and deep as Dean worried at one nipple and then the other, so long that the pleasure bordered on pain and still Sam wanted it to go on. But then Dean moved on, leaving Sam's nipples wet and red and sensitive to the air.

They were already naked so there was nothing between Dean and Sam's cock as the elder man moved his lips lower, tongue finding the hollows of Sam's abdominal muscles. Sam's thighs had opened, Dean kneeling between them.

Dean didn't think, wasn't scared. He ran his tongue down the prominent vein on the underside as Sam's cock jumped. Grasping the base, he took the head into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked and moving his tongue against the underside.

Sam raised his head to watch his fantasy come true, Dean's lips stretched thin around his dick. And then Dean began to move, slowly sucking up and down Sam's length. It was too much and not enough.

Stretching out an arm, he grabbed the lube and condom he had placed there earlier. Gently, he stopped Dean's movements with a hand to surprisingly soft short hair, thrusting the supplies at the older man.

Sam pulled his own thighs up, impatient until Dean's slickened finger was finally pressing inside. He wanted more immediately and said so.

Pressing two fingers in, Dean had never sought out another man's prostate but he found Sam's easily enough, the younger man jerking and letting out a high pitched moan. Still, he pushed in another finger to make sure that Sam was stretched enough.

"Dean, Dean…now."

Dean nodded, sitting back on his heels as he rolled the condom down his length, still staring at Sam holding his knees open for him. Positioning his cock at Sam's entrance, Dean leaned over his brother's form kissing Sam sweetly, wanting to put as much love into this as he had.

Long and slow, he pressed inside, Sam accepting him readily. Dean drove in hard and deep, rolling his hips upward to drag his cock against Sam's prostate.

Sam's wide hands spanned Dean's back as he pulled his brother close, the younger man not concerned in the least about the sounds spilling from his open lips.

"God…FUCK, Dean…so good, just like that…"

One of Sam's huge hands wandered down to grip a rounded cheek, feeling Dean's straining muscles. Dean's mouth was panting against Sam's shoulder, occasionally pressing sweet, moist kisses there, until Sam snaked his other hand between them to jerk his own cock.

Dean sat up a little then, watching Sam and shortening his thrusts to press constantly on the spot inside the younger hunter. He watched as Sam's entire body seemed to stiffen and then jerk spasmodically, and Sam's face scrunched up, almost like Sam's brooding frown even as the wet warmth of Sam's pleasure shot out between them.

And then Sam was pulling Dean back down, pulling Dean into him, saying, "Come on Dean, cum inside me…"

That was it, two, three hard thrusts and Dean was stiffening in his own pleasure, his face buried in Sam's shoulder, biting his lip to stifle the whimpers as he ground his dick in deep.

Dean slumped momentarily, coming down off his orgasm and barely registering Sam's soft strokes on his back. Then he was pulling away to dispose of the condom and bring in another wet washcloth, handing it to Sam. Dean lay down on the bed, his eyes almost immediately closing in his exhaustion.

Dropping the washcloth per Dean's example the previous night, Sam turned on the alarm before snuggling into an already relaxed Dean.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The next morning they awoke to the god-awful noise of "More Than a Feeling". Sam leaned away, reaching to turn off the alarm radio, but when he turned back, Dean had already moved away. The elder hunter was on his side of the bed, his face tucked into the other pillow, thumping his feet on the mattress in a childish display of displeasure.

Then Dean was getting up, staggering to the bathroom. As pleased as Sam was at Dean's adorable actions, he would have been more pleased with some kissing and cuddling. With a sigh, Sam got up and made sure all of his, and Dean's things were packed.

Again, when Dean emerged from the bathroom in a towel, Sam wanted to attack the other man, to lick the moisture from Dean's skin. He even took a step toward the other man, when Dean barked out, "Hurry up and shower, Sam. It's a fifteen hour drive from here."

Sam sighed. Dean was right, the bastard, but it didn't stop the feeling that things should be different. Everything was the same as before.

They hopped in the Impala, stopping at a drive-thru for coffee and breakfast sandwiches again. Then it was just them and the open road again, bad music that Dean played too loud, interrupted by Dean's semi-annoying, semi-humorous conversation and occasionally by Dean's mostly enjoyable singing.

It was during the singing that Sam, without thinking, reached out and rested his hand on Dean's thigh. He had just been feeling amused and affectionate, but Dean had stopped singing abruptly.

"Sam, not while I'm driving," Dean chided, throwing a smirk in Sam's direction before turning back to the road. He didn't start singing again until after Sam moved his hand.

Dean could tell that Sam was annoyed at his reaction, but he told himself that it was for the best. They needed to have rules for this, boundaries. He couldn't have Sam thinking about Dean instead of his own safety.

That was why, when they stopped at a gas station for lunch, (it was gross, but he wanted to make the trip in one day) Dean made sure to flirt with the female attendant. He knew Sam saw him, the younger hunter coming out of the restroom, but Sam didn't seem to be the least bothered by it. Sam simply looked over the candy aisle, choosing a package of Trident gum. He added the gum to Dean's stuff before walking out to the car.

It was for the best. That's what Dean kept telling himself, even as his heart ached a little. Dean was flirtatious by nature, it didn't mean anything. Still, he absurdly had been hoping that Sam would get a little jealous. He wanted proof that Sam wanted him, wanted Dean as his own.

Sam tried not to pout as he sat in the car waiting for Dean. His older brother was flirtatious by nature, it didn't mean anything, and, yeah, it wasn't like they should openly advertise that they were a gay couple, but…Sam had thought that things would be different.

They ate dinner in the car, too. Dean drove the whole way, both of them relieved when he finally pulled up in front of a cheap motel with a vacancy sign lit up.

Sam brought in the bags, this time, entering the room to discover that Dean had gotten them two beds. It was practical, Sam knew, would keep unwanted questions away and they could switch beds, but still…

They fell into bed that night with only sleep on their minds, but Sam woke up the next morning to soft kisses and a stroking hand. Moments later, Dean's lips were wrapped tightly around his morning erection. Dean brought himself off with a hand at the same time and after only a few moments of soft kisses, the elder man was striding off to the shower again.

And so it continued. Dean was still controlling, still flirtatious, still over-protective. The only difference was that Dean gave Sam a little extra comfort at night and occasionally in the morning. Sam had gotten the sexual relationship he had wanted from Dean, but it hadn't brought them closer as he had hoped.

Sam wanted to talk to Dean about it, but he didn't want to seem like a big girl, didn't want to be rejected or mocked by his older brother. Maybe this was what a relationship with Dean was like, maybe he had to accept what Dean was willing to give or have nothing at all.

He wished that Dean didn't have to be in control so much, even during sex. Sam didn't normally bottom this much, the only time that the roles reversed were when Sam specifically asked to be inside Dean. Twice in the past three weeks because Sam didn't want to push his luck. He supposed it shouldn't have surprised him that Dean would want to be the one in control, but Dean just seemed to enjoy being catcher so much, even as the older hunter worked to restrain his noises of enjoyment.

Again Sam was wondering what to do about his relationship with Dean. Until a night, about a month after the Lizard Man, when everything changed.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: So we are reaching the major angst portion of this story. Some of this is taken directly from my story I Didn't Mean To but don't worry, a lot of it will be different. Hopefully their reactions will feel more like the characters in this one. And there will be a lot more detail of the after effects. _

Dean had gone to the bar alone that night. They were leaving the next morning and he knew that they could do with a little extra money. Sam had stayed in to do a little more research.

It hadn't taken long to find a local eager to win a little money from a cocky, young punk. Dean had worked up slowly, but soon he was walking away with a substantial stack of cash.

He headed towards the bar for a drink. He didn't plan to stay long, he had already had two beers while playing, and Sam was waiting for him at the motel room.

But Dean didn't want to rush back either. It was still early and he reminded himself that he and Sam didn't need to spend every moment together, no matter how much he wanted to.

He just wanted to make sure that they both had a little space to think. Dean needed space to keep his objectivity and he gave his brother space so that Sam was free to decide if this relationship was really what he wanted.

Dean had just sat down at the bar when a man came to sit beside him. It wasn't surprising, the hunter had felt eyes on him all night, but that wasn't unusual. As much as Dean lived in the shadows of life, his looks ensured that he got noticed everywhere he went.

Looking over, his new companion was handsome enough, about as tall as Dean himself, but heavier built with dark hair and eyes just like Sam. Except the man looked nothing like his younger brother.

"So you're good at pool…?"

It took a moment for Dean to realize what the man was talking about, so preoccupied was he in his reflection on his brother. Until the man waved a hand in the direction of the pool table.

"Oh, yeah. Guess it's a hobby of mine."

The man laughed, deep and genuine. Dean couldn't help but smile himself, impressed that the man knew that he had hustled his opponent.

"I'm Matt." The man reached a hand towards Dean.

Dean took it still smiling. "Dean," he introduced himself.

"What're you drinking?" Matt gestured towards Dean's empty pint glass.

The hunter hesitated only a moment. He knew that the man was interested in more than a drink. He could practically feel the heat in Matt's gaze, but it was only a drink. There was nothing wrong with a little flirting, it wasn't like he was planning to cheat on Sam. Ever.

He just needed a little distance and this was his opportunity. So he answered, "Shiner Bock."

Dean couldn't help turning to look at the door, though, thinking of Sam waiting in the room. Drinking with Matt wouldn't take any more time that drinking alone, but it was hard to stifle his impulse to go back immediately and pounce on Sam.

He had only looked away for a moment, but if he hadn't, the hunter would have seen Matt put something in his drink as he slid it over to Dean. He would have noticed that his beer had an oddly large head on it. But he didn't and when he turned back around, Dean drank deeply, trying to quell this need, this desire, this love within him for Sam.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam was beyond angry, he was livid. He had been waiting to go to bed for Dean to come back to the bar, but it had gotten later and later with no older brother in sight. Before the beginning of their relationship, Sam would have known what his brother was up to. Dean would be in some alley with his hand up some bimbo's shirt and her hand would be…

He stopped those thoughts before they could run away with him. He believed that Dean would never consciously hurt him, but they hadn't talked about monogamy, hadn't discussed sleeping with other people. But Sam couldn't imagine that Dean would think that that would be alright.

Sure Dean still flirted with everything that moved, but he hadn't stayed out this late once in the month that they had been having sex. But what if Dean had gotten drunk, what if the girl had been uncommonly beautiful, what if there were twins or something?

What if Dean just didn't think their relationship was as serious as Sam thought it was?

Eventually, Sam stomped off to the bar, his anger only increased that he had to walk there to confront his brother. The fact that Dean was not inside when he made it to the bar didn't help his mood either.

Walking up to the bar, Sam proceeded to ask the bartender if she had seen Dean, describing his brother as about six foot, blondish…

"Really handsome?" the lanky brunette finished for him.

Sam scowled. He knew it wasn't his brother's fault that Dean looked the way he did, but Dean didn't have to play it up as much as he did either.

"That would be him."

"Yeah, he left about an hour ago with Matt, one of our regulars."

Sam was speechless. He'd never really thought that Dean would hook up with someone, especially a guy.

The bartender kept talking, oblivious to Sam's horrified expression. "Yeah, they were pretty friendly, if you know what I mean." She winked a heavily made up eye at him.

The younger hunter didn't respond, simply turned back towards the door abruptly. Outside, he noticed the Impala was there. Briefly, Sam considered doing the car irreparable damage, but he knew that that wasn't the answer for the awful pain of betrayal burning his gut.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dean began to feel strange about half an hour after Matt had sat down next to him. He knew he couldn't be drunk, there was no way that three beers would make him feel like this.

The older hunter felt like he had drunk three times that much. Dean was very relaxed, enough to slur his words and talk about Sammy. He had expounded at great length on Sam's admirable qualities, telling Matt all about how great his little brother was, how much Dean loved him, how he would die for Sammy.

It was at that point that Dean tried to get up from the bar. He wanted to leave, to go to Sam, but he pretty much fell off the stool. But Matt was there, helping him. The way the man was touching him wasn't right though.

Matt was standing too close, his breath hot on Dean's face as the man whispered in his ear and then kissed his neck. Matt's hands, while preventing Dean from face planting on the bar's floor, were too intimate, one large hand wrapped possessively around his hip, the other arm holding Dean tight to Matt's own body.

That's when Dean knew, knew that he had to get away because something was very wrong. He tried to push the man away, but his movements were uncoordinated and sluggish, his vision swimming.

Dean had no idea how they left the bar or where they went. He woke up when he landed on what was, upon closer inspection, a bed.

He tried to get up, to get away, to call out. He tried to prevent Matt's hands from undressing him, from stroking over his sweat-slicked skin. He felt hot and cold at once, nauseous, his breath coming in short pants that didn't give him enough air.

He understood now what was going on, what was going to happen and he also knew that he was powerless to stop it. Matt turned Dean over onto his stomach, bending one of Dean's legs to open the hunter's body further.

Dean started to cry long before his body was breached. The tears were silent, falling continuously down his face, making it even more difficult to breathe against the mattress. Dean wanted to yell, to scream out his pain and fear and frustration.

But all he could do was lay there.

_Author's Note: __So this story came to me while I was sitting in a class about sexual violence. I wanted to say that of course, this story is not mean to be straight fact. I am not a trained therapist and my only experience has been as a friend and in the clinic. All survivors of sexual assault will react different and I am trying to take the characters' personalities into account. But this is not a story about what would you do if you were assaulted, it's about what would you do if you were the partner of someone who was assaulted. I want it to be about how far you would go for love. I want it to be about putting the pieces back together and discovering that the pieces fit together better after they had been broken apart._


	8. Chapter 8

Dean woke again, slumped over the front seat of the Impala, with no recollection of how he got there. He had been redressed but that didn't stop him from feeling like he was naked, laid bare.

Numbly, he opened the door, leaning out and vomiting up whatever was left of the drug onto the pavement beside the car. Eventually, his stomach stopped heaving, and he sat back up, closing the door in a bid for privacy.

"FUCK!!" he screamed to the empty interior. How could this have happened? He knew better than this.

Dean could still hear his father's chastising voice in his head. 'You're not paying enough attention, Dean.' 'You've got to always be aware of your surroundings.' 'Stop letting a pretty face steal your attention.'

How could he have been so stupid? And like usual when he made a mistake, Sam was going to pay the price.

He turned the key in the ignition, only somewhat comforted at the sound of the Impala roaring to life. It was already after ten am. No doubt, Sam had already figured out that Dean had spent the night in someone else's bed, but the younger man deserved, at the very least, to vent his anger to Dean's face.

Dean drove back to the motel on auto-pilot. It was a short trip, easily walkable. He tried desperately not to think of what he knew Sam would say, words like 'betrayal' and 'it's over' and 'I hate you'.

He didn't attempt to stall. He knew that he deserved every one of the harsh words. And Sam didn't deserve to be kept waiting any longer.

When Dean opened the door, Sam jumped up from his seat at the laptop. The younger man had spent a miserable night. Sam had tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes all that he could see was Dean's face when Sam was inside him. All Sam could feel was the cherishing touch of Dean's hands on his skin. And then he would think of Dean in some other man's bed, those hands on some other man's body.

Sam stood still as Dean approached. He could see the effects of a sleepless night on his brother. Dean's clothes were rumpled, his eyes bloodshot. And in Dean's eyes, Sam could see the elder man's shame, his regret and sorrow.

Dean stopped before he had gotten too close to his younger brother. Dean saw the expected pain and disappointment in Sam's dark eyes, Sam's anger. Dean cursed himself again for being the cause of it.

Dean said the only thing that he really could say, even knowing it wouldn't make a difference. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy!" Sam's voice was loud and sharp, not yet yelling but close. "So you knew that you were cheating, knew that I was sitting here waiting for you, _trusting _you while you were getting your rocks off with some other guy!"

Dean stayed quiet as Sam's voice quickly escalated to yelling. There was nothing he could say, Sam's accusations were completely accurate.

"You didn't mean to?! What does that even mean? You know, I don't know why I expected any different from you. You never have been able to keep it in your pants, why should you change now? Obviously you couldn't change for me." Sam knew that he was being unfair, but he was so hurt by Dean's actions, Sam wanted Dean to feel the same.

"Dammit, Dean!" Sam ran a frustrated hand through his hair at his brother's silence. He had expected Dean to at least try and excuse his actions in some way. "Give me the keys."

Dean moved then, handing the keys over without question. He made sure not to let their fingers touch, though. He was certain that he would shatter into a million pieces if they were to touch now.

"I love you." Dean had to say it. He couldn't let Sam leave without saying it.

"Don't!" Sam hissed, his anger bright and volatile. "I can't be near you right now. I can't even look at you right now."

Dean nodded absently, flinching unconsciously at the slamming of the motel door. He felt the tears rise up to choke him, one or two sliding down his face against his will. Angrily, he ran a hand down his face to wipe them away.

How dare he feel sorry for himself? This was all his fault. He was the one who had hurt Sam. How was he supposed to protect his little brother when he was too pathetic to protect himself against an ordinary man?

Vainly, Dean wished for the millionth time that their Dad had never made that deal. For the yellow-eyed demon to even take such a deal must mean that Dean had no hope of saving Sam anyway. John should have let Dean die. Then Sam would have their father to protect them, John who was so much stronger than Dean, so much better.

Dean was so worthless, so weak and pathetic. No wonder their father never praised him, always seemed disappointed and chastising despite his best efforts. Dean was a fuck-up, incapable of protecting Sammy, the one thing that he was entrusted to do. He ruined everything, betrayed his brother's trust.

He didn't know what to do now. He was so tired, but one look at the bed that they had slept in last night, with its mussed sheets still smelling of _them _and _sex_, and all possibility of sleep, even in the unused bed, seemed impossible.

In the end, Dean sat at the seat in front of the laptop that Sam had vacated. It seemed oddly intrusive to use Sam's computer after what had happened, but Dean needed something to do, a hunt to focus on. Whether Sam came back to him or not, Dean needed a hunt.

Dean had always known that he would die young. Hunting was a dangerous gig, but this was the first time that Dean had hoped the end would come soon.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam slid into the driver's seat of the Impala, but he didn't immediately put the key in the ignition. Instead he sat in his brother's beloved car and cried. Their relationship hadn't turned out at all the way he had envisioned.

He was so stupid. What did he think was going to happen? Did he really think that all Dean needed was a little love and the older hunter would change just like that? Did he really expect for Dean to stop flirting and sleeping around and start quoting love sonnets and cuddling with him?

So pathetic. But still, Sam didn't think that it was unreasonable to expect Dean to love Sam as much as Sam loved Dean. It wasn't too much to expect that Dean be faithful to him at the very least.

Sam knew that Dean loved him, just apparently not in the romantic sense, not in the soul-mate sense, and, yeah, Sam knew how girly that sounded but he didn't care because at the moment he felt like he had just had his heart ripped out of his chest.

Eventually the tears dried up and Sam started the car. He ended up back at the bar. He didn't know why, but he just needed to find this guy that Dean had been with.

It was lunchtime and Sam entered the bar to find a small lunchtime crowd of mostly truckers and locals.

He approached the bartender, a busty blonde this time. Fortunately, she was just as friendly.

"Excuse me, is a man named Matt here? I was told last night that he was a regular."

The girl smiled flirtatiously at Sam, seemingly more than willing to help the younger hunter with _whatever _he needed.

"Oh, yeah, he's always here it seems like. That's him in the corner booth, the bigger guy."

Sam smiled and thanked the girl, ordering a Coke from her to have an excuse to hang out. He went over the booth directly behind the table of three that _Matt _was sitting with.

He couldn't figure out why Dean had cheated. Yeah the guy was attractive, but was this guy worth everything that he and Dean had? Had Sam just been an experiment into the world of male sex and now Dean wanted to try out a few different players?

Sam couldn't decide what to do, now that he had found the guy. It wasn't exactly _Matt's _fault after all.

In the end, Sam couldn't help listening in on the men's conversation.

"So I saw you with that guy last night. Nice." Sam knew that the guy was talking about Dean and it made his blood boil.

_Matt's _chuckled knowingly. "Nice? That guy was _hot_, hotter than anything you could get."

"You didn't _get _him," the unknown man said sullenly.

"Doesn't matter how I got him there, just that I was balls deep in his ass last night."

"So how was he?"

"Hot." Matt chuckled again. "He was a fighter even after the roofie, kept bucking against me, calling out for some guy named Sam. I just shoved his face in the mattress…"

Sam was out of the booth and pulling _Matt_ out of the booth, before he had made the conscious decision to move. And then he was slamming Matt down on the table.

"What did you do to my brother?" Sam's voice was a menacing growl, loud in the sudden silence of the bar.

"What? Who? I didn't do anything…"

Sam tightened his grip on the man's shirt, pulling Matt more upright. "Dean, the guy that you were with last night, the guy that you were just talking about…did you drug him?"

"Look, man, whatever he said, I didn't do anything that he didn't want me to."

"Don't lie to me!" Sam was yelling now. "The truth, now, or so help me god…"

"Yes, ok, yes. I put something in his drink to help him relax…"

Sam's right cross cut off the rest of the man's words. He didn't want to hear anymore. Sam was just drawing his arm back for another punch when he remembered his brother.

Dean was sitting in the motel room, believing that Sam hated him, blaming himself when Dean had been…Dean had been raped.

Abruptly, Sam let go of the man's shirt and raced out the door.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam practically threw the door open in his haste to get to his brother. He didn't know what to expect, but this calm person sitting at the computer wasn't it.

Dean forced himself to be calm as Sam rushed into the room. This was the moment when either Sam would leave him forever, or they would continue to hunt together despite the awkwardness and the pain between them now.

Overcoming his shock, Sam moved forward again, his words coming out in a jumble. "Dean, I saw Matt…

Dean stood so quickly the chair knocked over in his haste as he suddenly barked, "No! I don't want you anywhere near him, Sam!"

Again, Sam was stunned at the expression on Dean's face, now one of lethal hatred that was usually only directed at the most heinous of monsters.

Sam's voice was calmer as he started speaking again. "Dean, I know that he drugged you, that he raped you."

Dean didn't even flinch at the word _rape_.

"No, I was stupid and some guy got lucky because of it."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was, Sam."

Dean lifted a hand to his forehead, rubbing in a vain attempt to quell the headache he had woken up with.

"Listen, I'm gonna take a shower. We can still make it halfway to Greenville by tonight."

"Dean we have to talk about this…"

Dean didn't even answer, just grabbed his duffel and headed into the bathroom. "Get your stuff ready, Sam."

That and the slamming of the door signaled the end to the conversation.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dean started the shower, the sudden silence outside the bathroom door signaling Sam's acquiescence, at least for the time being.

He stepped into the too hot shower, hoping that the scalding water would wash away the memory of another man's hands there, would wash away the helplessness.

He couldn't help but feel that this was a punishment, a punishment for all the women he bedded with no intention of calling back, for using those women to make himself feel wanted. It was a punishment for the death of his father, for not being the son that his father deserved.

And most of all it was a punishment for touching Sam, a punishment for taking Sam away from his normal life, for keeping Sam from finding a nice girl. This was the universe punishing him for believing even for a moment that he could be happy, that he could be loved.

Stupid. Stupid for believing that he was worthy of love and stupid for thinking that the universe was trying to teach him anything. This was just the same chaotic, horrible universe kicking him in the teeth for no reason. That didn't mean Dean hadn't learned anything from the experience though.

With trembling fingers, Dean washed his flaccid penis and then his sore anus. He didn't check for blood or tears, he just couldn't. He knew though that he would need to get tested, that he couldn't let Sam near any of his bodily fluids unless he was one hundred percent positive that he was clean.

Finally, he stepped out of the shower, not bothering to shave. Still he wiped a hand over the mirror to look at his reflection. He looked tired, bruised, but still handsome. He looked the same as he often did.

Dean had to grip the sink, when the memories suddenly assaulted him. He felt like he was back there, panting for breath that wouldn't come, unable to move. He could hear _Matt's _voice in his ear.

"God, look at you, such a beautiful slut. You're the most gorgeous man I've ever done this to."

"Your lips were made to suck my cock. That's it, take it all like the whore you are."

"A man as pretty as you just had to be a faggot, and a whore."

Dean had always been proud of his looks, of his body. Was that what people saw when they looked at him? He knew that most people only saw his beautiful packaging, but was he asking for it? The way he looked, his cocky attitude, his flirting…

He remembered the man's hand on his hard cock, stroking him to orgasm, Matt's words that Dean was enjoying it. He had never wanted to be like that with anyone but Sam, but Matt could obviously tell that Dean liked it, liked when Sam was buried deep inside. It had felt safe, comforting, but now it was all messed up.

Dean ran a hand through his wet hair. He didn't feel like putting gel in it like usual, didn't feel like styling it.

He got dressed, clothes as usual, but he couldn't help buttoning his overshirt, like one more layer would protect him from the normal stares at his physique. Shaking his head at his own thoughts he exited the steamy room.

_Author's Note: I need your help guys. After much thought and research, I have changed how Dean reacted to the assault (from the story I Didn't Mean To). The majority of men react to rape with a 'composed' demeanor. Do y'all agree with their reactions? Are their reactions in character? Do y'all think I should have done things differently? _


	9. Chapter 9

Finally Dean emerged from the bathroom after what Sam thought had to be the longest shower the older hunter had ever taken. Sam had made sure that he was packed up, but the whole time, all he could think of was every rape victim on every cop show he had ever seen, his imagination running wild.

But Dean emerged looking much as he always did. Except that Dean didn't normally get dressed in the small, steamy bathroom. And Dean hadn't bothered to shave, or gel his hair.

"Dean…"

"You ready to go, Sam? Cause I am out of here."

Sam nodded dumbly. He supposed that he could understand the desire to get out of this town as quickly as possible.

So they got in the Impala, everything like it always was except everything had changed.

Sam felt completely out of his element. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He didn't want to force Dean to talk to him if he wasn't ready, but on the other hand, he didn't want Dean to pretend like the whole thing had never happened either.

"Dean, you know you can talk to me."

"Dude, we talk all the time."

Sam shook his head, but kept his mouth shut. The rest of the trip was spent with the music blaring to cover the sound of the brothers' awkward silence.

Dean's silence was a giveaway that the older hunter was not as unaffected as he seemed. It unnerved Sam because the things that could trigger Dean's silence were few and far between, Dad's death certainly being something that did. Still, with Dean being silent on the matter, it was impossible for Sam to understand exactly how Dean had been affected by recent developments.

It was difficult for Sam to imagine Dean being in so vulnerable a position. Dean seemed so unflappable, even now, nothing like the female victims usually seen on the television. Of course, Sam figured that male victims would react differently, but still there had been no crying, no yelling, no outbursts of any kind. And frankly, Sam couldn't help thinking that with Dean already being so broken up about Dad's death and contending with the horrors of their daily life, that maybe this didn't even rank that high on the scale of things troubling Dean. And boy wasn't that a depressing thought.

Dinner was at a gas station, Dean told Sam to pay for the gas and get him whatever while he pumped the gas. Sam returned with hot dogs, but Dean didn't eat more than a bite, throwing the rest of his out the window before Sam could object.

At about eleven, Dean started zoning out, but fortunately the elder hunter stopped at a motel without prodding. He let Sam out at the entrance, finding a parking place and then bringing their bags in.

As Sam opened the door, Dean dropped his duffel on the bed nearest the door and deliberately dropped Sam's bag on the other bed. Sam was at a loss for a moment. On the one hand he understood that Dean might not want to get cuddly with another man, particularly one as large as Sam and who had the tendency to end up on top of Dean in the morning. On the other hand though, Sam knew that Dean needed some cuddling, someone safe to comfort Dean.

Closing and locking the door, Sam stepped up beside his brother, making sure that he was within Dean's sight before reaching a hand out to squeeze Dean's shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Dean shrugged the hand off, but Sam would not be rebuffed so easily.

"Dean, I'm sorry for the things I said earlier. It wasn't your fault and I still want…"

"No." Dean's hands stilled where they had been searching in the duffel for what, Dean didn't even know. "_This _was a mistake. It should never have happened, I shouldn't have…"

Dean shook his head and then finally looked up into Sam's eyes. "Just go sleep in your bed, Sam."

Dean's voice and eyes held enough pleading in them, that Sam obliged the older hunter, moving over to his own bed. Sam set the alarm, before stripping off his own clothes.

Dean, however, simply stared at his own duffel for a long moment, biting his lip and debating what to do. It was only Sam in the room, but Dean didn't want to get undressed, didn't want to sleep in his usual boxers and fitted tee, but he didn't have any sweats or god forbid, pajama pants. Dean wasn't really a loungewear kinda guy. He wondered whether it was really Sam he was hiding from or himself.

In the end, he simply took off his boots and lay down in his jeans.

Neither of the brothers found it easy to sleep that night. Sam may have let the topic go, but he wasn't about to let Dean go. He worried over Dean's words, how Dean called them a 'mistake'. That had hurt despite that Sam probably deserved it for the things that he had said, for how he had jumped to conclusions.

And he knew how this was going to play out. Sam knew that Dean was going to simply pretend that the previous night had never happened, pretend that the entire previous month of them having a sexual relationship hadn't happened. Sam wasn't normally one to fly by the seat of his pants, to not have a plan, but all he could think to do at this point was to wait and see how Dean reacted. And then deal with it…somehow.

Dean lay awake in his bed for a long time that night as well. He felt alone in the double, like he had forgotten what sleeping by himself felt like after only a month of sleeping with Sam. But he couldn't possibly sleep with Sam.

Because he believed what he had told Sam, their whole relationship had been a huge mistake. He was so fucked up, how could he have ever believed that he could make Sam feel safe and secure and happy? He just fucked everything up, it was what he did.

It had been a mistake before and now, Dean definitely couldn't let Sam sleep with him. Not when he was lying tense in bed practically scared of the dark, like _Matt_ was lurking in the shadows.

In the many years since that fateful fire that had started it all, there had been the occasional horror that had stuck with him, kept him up at night while he pretended to sleep. But this had been different and not just because it was sexual. He had never felt so helpless. Not even when the YED had Dean pinned to the wall of that cabin, because then at least had been able to distract the thing from his baby brother. And the demon had had a purpose. Dean didn't understand why, why a person would do this to him, to anyone.

Dean eventually drifted off to sleep, but woke with a gasp four hours later. The nightmare had been vivid and even awake he could hear the man's voice breathed into his ear as Dean's head had been yanked backward by his short hair.

_"I know you want it, baby. Just look at your thick, hard dick…" the man whispered the words as he stroked Dean's sex. "You're such a beautiful slut, your body just begs for it…"_

Dean rolled onto his side, curling in on himself as the flush of shame burned through his body. How could he have liked what _Matt _had done to him? How could he have gotten hard for any man but Sam?

The older hunter looked across at Sam finally sleeping in his own bed. He had never meant to hurt Sam, but like usual he was careless, as Sam would say 'insensitive'.

Dean could feel a menacing growl rising from his chest. He had to get out of here. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep and he didn't want to wake Sam.

Rising out of bed, Dean put on his boots, over-shirt, and jacket with short, jerky movements. He was so angry. Anger was an emotion that Dean was well aware of and it was much preferable to the helplessness, to the disgust and fear that Dean felt. Anger was the only emotional expression that his father hadn't berated Dean for showing.

He had wanted to tear that bastard apart, but that would really have made Dean a monster, blaming some guy for Dean's carelessness. Dean had flirted with the guy, drank the beer, and _enjoyed it_. Dean's erection and orgasm had proven that. He was a slut, Sam and John had often told him so, told him to keep it in his pants, to think with his upstairs brain.

Dean practically fell out the motel door after leaving a note for Sam just in case the younger hunter woke up. It was a good thing that Sam's own nightmares had dropped off.

He walked swiftly to the Impala, enjoying the feel of the chilled air against his heated skin, but he enjoyed more the feel of leather as he slid into the beloved car, the stillness and quiet and the smell. He immediately felt guilty for it.

This was his father's car. His father who raised Dean to be a man, not this pathetic waste of space who couldn't protect himself, couldn't protect his brother. Who was scared of humans and nightmares…

He clenched his hands on the steering wheel, wanting to scream and cry and beat something into a bloody pulp. He didn't know what to do…

Ruthlessly, he shoved those feelings down. Dean told himself to quit acting like a baby, there was still a job to do. He could take it out on the monsters.

Finally he put the key in the ignition. They had passed a 24 hours Walmart on the way in and Dean needed a few more layers than normal to hide behind.


	10. Chapter 10

_So I changed where the boys are headed on their next hunt. Now it's Gadsden, Alabama in case the location matters to any of you. _

Walmart at five am was an interesting place. Dean parked the Impala in the lot that while not full was decidedly not empty. Like a coward, the hunter had to take a few deep breaths in the car before he had the courage to get out and face other people.

He wished that Sam was there with him, to comfort him with the younger man's presence, to take attention away from him, to handle things for him. Dean wanted someone to hide behind, someone who understood.

But that wasn't Sam. If Sam were here, then Dean would have been obligated to pretend that he was fine, unaffected by any of it. Sam would only ask questions Dean didn't want the younger hunter to know the answers to, he didn't want Sam to _understand_ what this was like. Because even if Dean felt completely ineffectual, he still _wanted _to protect Sam.

Finally, he went inside. It was a large store and so there were only two other shoppers in the men's section with Dean. Still Dean gave the other people a wide berth.

First he grabbed a couple pairs of sweatpants, feeling like a total tool as he did so. He couldn't help glancing around as if the other people in the store were staring at him, staring and _knowing_. Shaking himself, Dean then grabbed a couple of hoodies. He reminded himself that Sam dressed like this all the time and though Dean often laughed at the younger man for it, other people didn't seem to think anything of it. He would just have to learn.

Lastly, Dean grabbed a couple of ball caps. He knew that they weren't going to be appropriate to wear a lot of the time, you just seem less trustworthy if people can't see your face, but he desperately wanted to hide his supposedly _pretty face_, even if just occasionally.

He grabbed extra socks, underwear, and t-shirts for the both of them, to give himself an excuse for Sam before heading to the register. The cashier was a middle-aged woman, looking as though life had been less than kind, exactly the type of woman that Dean would normally flirt a little with trying to get the woman to smile, to feel noticed and appreciated for once, but Dean couldn't bring himself to. He found himself staring at the counter to avoid her eyes instead.

He tried not to think too hard about it, grabbed his bags and left quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when he was once again in the Impala, a cage of steel protecting him from the outside world.

There was still a little time to kill before Sam would be up so Dean stopped off to pick up some coffee and fresh donuts at a bakery that was just opening. Fortunately, the old man behind the counter there didn't even give Dean a second look.

Back in the parking lot of the motel, Dean found himself once again reluctant to go in, even though Sam was the only one inside this time. Goddammit, he needed to pull himself together. There was still a job to do! There were people out there being killed and terrorized by the supernatural. The yellow-eyed demon was still after his brother, the same demon that killed his father and dragged John to hell.

His pep talk only made him feel more useless though. John had sold his soul for Dean's life and he felt guiltier about that than ever. What was the point in even trying? He would never measure up to his father, never protect Sam as well, never hunt the demon as effectively.

He used to be so certain, before their Dad's death, before John's last words, before demon viruses and possession, before _this_… Ever since he had almost let Sam be killed by the shrtiga, Dean had been so careful to protect his baby brother. He had stepped in between Sam and the school bully, in between Sam and Dad, stepped in front of the monster and in front of the bullet, anything, _everything _to protect Sammy just like Dad had ordered.

"_You have something they don't have,"_ Dean had told Sam. _"Me."_

Sam had been right to be skeptical then.

But there wasn't anything for it, Dean was as helpless now as he had been _that _night, so with a huff, Dean got out and went into the motel room with his hands full. He headed immediately for the shower, bringing a change of clothes as well as his shower and shaving kit in with him.

Sam woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of the shower running. He wondered momentarily at Dean waking before him, but it wasn't like it had never happened before.

Then he noticed an untouched box of donuts on the table, and a Walmart bag. Dean had apparently been up a while, and that thought made Sam wonder how long Dean had been in that shower, but the coffee was still hot so it couldn't have been too long…

Sam didn't know that Dean was in the shower having another flashback. The older hunter craved showers, wanted and hoped to feel clean afterwards, but Dean hated having to get undressed, hated the marks of _Matt's _possession still visible on his body, hated having to wash between his trembling thighs, his sore hole, his dick that hadn't been anything like hard since that night.

Again, Dean felt phantom hands, saw not the slightly moldy tile of the motel shower but the yellow stripes of bed sheets…

_Dean had been stripped of his jacket and shirts, had his pliant limbs maneuvered around like he was an unruly toddler. Matt's hands were undoing his belt, lowering the zipper on his jeans, Matt's face a gleeful sneer leaning over Dean as he said, "Let's see what you're hiding under these clothes, Deano…"_

Dean found himself sitting on the shower's floor when he came back to himself an indeterminant amount of time later. The water had run cold.

On shaking legs Dean stood and turned the water off. Drying quickly, he put on boxer-briefs and jeans before standing reluctantly in front of the mirror to shave. He didn't want to, but Sam would be suspicious if Dean suddenly started growing a beard, not to mention that, again, it would make Dean look suspicious and unprofessional.

By the time that Dean emerged, Sam was practically pacing at the longer than normal shower. But the older hunter seemed fine, pale with dark smudges under his eyes, but not red like he'd been crying, not like Dean had been breaking down under the falling water.

"Better have left me some hot water, dude," Sam said. He had said it trying to be as normal as possible, just their normal snarky banter, but instead of coming back with something offensive, Dean flushed and looked away, something like fear and shame in his green eyes.

Immediately remorseful, Sam moved toward his brother with soft eyes, wanting to take the words back, wanting to know what it was that kept Dean in the shower so long, but Dean turned his head, moved quickly away.

"Hurry up," Dean said harshly, pretending to look through his duffel for maybe the millionth time since he had cheated on Sam. It just seemed like such an effective means of avoiding Sam's eyes.

But Sam saw it for what it was, saw Dean turn his whole body away from Sam. And it hurt that Dean wasn't trusting him with this, wasn't turning to him for help or comfort, just like Dad's death, just like Dad's last words…Sam had to wonder if Dean would ever let him in.

During Sam's own cold shower, he couldn't help but feel like everything was falling apart. He had been so happy the night after Dean and he had first had sex, but that enthusiasm had quickly dulled and now, now Sam had nothing. Dean wouldn't even let Sam touch him.

He tried to remember everything that he had ever heard about being there for victims of sexual assault. But there it was again, that word, _victim_. Dean had been shot, bludgeoned, electrocuted, burned, tortured by both a demon wearing their father and one wearing Sam, but he had never been a _victim_. Was he now?

Sam didn't know and he wouldn't if Dean wouldn't talk to him. He remembered back to Stanford's freshman orientations that he had had to sit through, they had said 'never blame the victim'. Well Sam had already blown that one. He hadn't meant it, but he had said that to Dean before. How many times could he use that excuse before Dean quit buying it? How many before Sam had to admit that it was true on some level, that he was taking out his insecurities on Dean?

Sam had always fought against the control that his father and brother had exerted over his life. Growing up he had felt like his opinion didn't matter in the least, the most he got to decide was what to eat for dinner and that only because Dean would give in to his whining. Now he knew that both Dean and their father had been trying to keep Sam safe, trying to keep Sam in the dark about what John did, trying to train Sam to protect himself.

That was why he didn't answer the phone for four years, not that Dean had called for four years, the older hunter had given up after about six months. Sam wanted to make his own decisions, he wanted to live in complete denial like the supernatural and the first eighteen years of Sam's life didn't exist. He was only now realizing how shitty that had been to Dean.

Yeah, Sam admitted that he had too often ignored Dean's feelings, believed that Dean was as insensitive as he pretended to be because that made things easier on Sam. And as much as he wanted to be in control, to just take care of things for Dean for once, to prove that he could handle the responsibility and be there for Dean like Dean had always been there for Sam, he knew that now was not the time for a power struggle. If Sam wanted them to have a real relationship they would have to learn to work together, and for that they would both have to compromise.

The problem was Sam felt like they didn't have a real relationship before this. How was he supposed to comfort Dean when the elder man hadn't wanted to touch like lovers before? They had had sex but that was out of the question now. Sam knew that he could get Dean to tell him anything if he wheedled long enough, but how to get Dean to discuss what had happened, to talk about how he was feeling? Sam felt like he'd have a better chance of getting answers out of the YED.

With a sigh, Sam walked out of the bathroom in just a towel as usual. He noticed that Dean didn't look at him until he was fully dressed. The older man simply sat at the table staring into his cup of black coffee like it would tell him why 42 was the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

Dressed, Sam plopped down in the other chair, noticing that Dean still hadn't opened the box of donuts. Frowning, Sam opened the box, wondering if they were so icky that even Dean wouldn't eat them. But with a look inside and a whiff, Sam could tell that the donuts were fresh, homemade cake donuts. Sam's favorite.

"You're not eating?" Sam queried, trying to keep as much of the concern out of his voice as possible. Dean would only snap if he thought that Sam was 'mothering' him.

Dean had to consciously prevent the frown from forming on his face. Just the smell of the donuts wafting over to him was enough to cause his stomach to clench.

"I ate a few there." And if Dean's voice was more gruff that normal, he would blame it on lack of sleep.

"Yeah," Sam continued questioning. "Why were you up so early?"

This time Dean does frown, immediately feeling defensive. "Couldn't sleep. It happens to the best of us, Sam."

Sam just barely held in the growl of frustration. It was so like their father to not want his behavior questioned and it was a sure sign that there was more to it than what Dean was admitting to. Still he decided not to push and instead suggested that they get on the road.

The drive was still painfully silent. Dean didn't even sing, seemed to be too caught in his own thoughts to do so, but when Dean suggested that they get lunch in the gas station again, Sam put his foot down.

There they were, Dean standing outside the car pumping the gas while Sam sat in the passenger seat with the window rolled down.

"No, Dean. I won't go in and get something for lunch. I know you wanna get there quickly but I need some real food. I can't live off of this processed crap!"

Dean scowled, knowing that he was being ridiculous and that Sam was right, but still not liking it. He would just have to suck it up, like usual.

"Fine," he growled as he slid back into the passenger seat, driving them further into town to find a diner.

They stopped at the first one they saw as usual. It seemed to be quite popular which would normally be a welcome sign that the food was half-decent but, now it just meant more people that Dean would want to hide from. He thought about grabbing one of his new hats but it would be rude to wear it inside, even though it was only a diner.

When they stepped inside, the waitress immediately noticed them. Dean quickly averted his eyes as she approached, but not before seeing the look in her eye, that look of interest that he had welcomed before. Now it just made him feel dirty.

Sam immediately noticed the tension in his brother's frame, how Dean didn't flirt with the girl like he normally would. Instead Dean's words were terse as if they were being forced out.

Sam tried to smile at the girl as she handed them two menus, trying to make up for the fact that Dean wouldn't even look at her despite that she was young and fairly attractive. Dean was staring intently at the menu, something the older hunter never really needed to do.

A fact that was proven when she came back with their coffees and Dean ordered his regular cheeseburger and fries. Dean chanced a look up at the woman's face again when he ordered, not liking how rude he felt he was being. But she was still looking down on him, that look like he was only good for one thing, but now it was paired with a comforting smile like she didn't want to scare him away.

He jerked his eyes back to the table top feeling the anger rise up in his throat again. He was so angry that he felt like this, that this girl could make him feel small and disgusting, used.

Sam ordered his salad, not even attempting to be polite to the poor girl as he watched Dean's tense, hunched shoulders and slightly bowed head.

"Dean, what is up? Just because the girl's not your type doesn't mean that you have to be rude."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, not enjoying Sam questioning his every move.

"I didn't get a lot of sleep and now I'm in a foul mood. Give me a damn break if I'm not throwing the girl down on the nearest table."

Sam blinked. A foul mood seemed to be an understatement. "Look, I…"

He was forced to trail off as their food was set in front of them. Dean looked pleased as punch and took a big bite of his burger to make it clear that their mouths should be too full for talking.

Dean chewed the bite of burger slowly, almost afraid to try and force it down his throat. Once down it sat like lead, not enticing Dean to attempt another bite but he knew that he had to. At the moment Sam's attention was on his own food, but the quickest way to get the younger man's attention would be not to eat. Even that knowledge wasn't enough to get the whole meal down though. Dean suspected he could only have managed it under penalty of death.

He watched as Sam noticed, hazel eyes flickering between Dean's plate and Dean's face. It was only a matter of time until…

"Are you sick? You're not eating…"

"I'm fine, Sam. It's just…not good, tastes like dog food actually."

Fuck, they both knew how lame that excuse was.

Sam dropped his voice. "Dean, is it the drugs he gave you…?"

"What? No! It has nothing to do with that Sam. Just drop it."

Sam nodded, feeling like an ass who had just punched his brother's sore spot and not knowing what to say now. Both of their appetites were sufficiently ruined.


	11. Chapter 11

They arrived in Gadsden a couple hours after their disastrous lunchand Dean drove them straight to the park where the deaths had occurred for a look around.

Parking the Impala amidst the minivans and sedans, Dean grabbed a ball cap from the backseat before getting out. He could feel Sam's questioning stare as he put it on and for the first time since high school when Stephanie Wilcox's parents were out of town for the night, Dean wished that Sam wasn't there. He couldn't keep coming up with excuses for his behavior and he knew that Sam wasn't buying any of it anyway.

"What now?"

"You have never worn a hat before Dean." Sam said in his intellectually superior voice. At least that's what Dean called that snotty tone.

"And I'm not allowed to now because?"

Sam floundered for what to say to that. Independently none of these events would be that strange, but together, after what had happened with _Matt_…Sam knew that they were connected but he didn't quite know what it meant.

"Come on, Sam. This place is gonna close soon."

For now, Sam had no other choice but to catch up to his brother as Dean made his way inside the park of Noccalula Falls, past picnic areas and playground equipment.

As soon as they were side by side again, Dean asked, "So what's the deal with this place?"

"There have been three deaths, supposed suicides, they all threw themselves over the falls."

"And?" Dean said, moving out of the way of a mom carrying a tower of Tupperware dishes followed by two arguing girls.

"And there's a legend of this place. Noccalula was the daughter of the chief of a Cherokee tribe who was promised to the son of a Creek Indian chief but she had already fallen in love with a brave from her own tribe."

"And she threw herself over so she wouldn't have to marry someone besides her true love? Dramatic."

Sam nodded. "On her wedding day. Anyway, they put in extra security, even at night, but soon they'll have to close the place to the public."

"Well that would be good for us, but why is this chick killing people now? I mean, I'm assuming she's been dead for a while."

"Yeah, nobody knows exactly when the legend started, but it had to have been at least a hundred years ago, and there don't appear to have been any similar deaths here in the past."

Dean nodded, his eyes shielded by the brim of the hat as they reached the edge of the falls. Sam already hated that hat.

Instead Sam looked at the view before him. The falls were beautiful in the late afternoon. They were 90 feet high and with the rocks below…

Sam turned to look at the statue behind them. It was a copper statue of an Indian maiden jumping off the cliff. Supposedly it was made out of pennies that school children collected. Personally he thought it was a little morbid, but whatever. He turned back around to find Dean still staring rather fixatedly down at the pool below.

Dean stared down and wondered what had gone through Noccalula's mind. He figured that of anyone he had a pretty good idea. Already in his short life, he had stared down into certain death. And he knew what it was to love someone you couldn't have. Sam stood behind him and yet, the younger hunter couldn't have been farther away. He couldn't confide in Sam, couldn't touch him, couldn't love him the way that Sam deserved to be loved.

But to kill yourself? Dean couldn't do that, couldn't leave Sam alone when the YED was still sniffing around, waiting to do God knew what. But if he ever managed to gank that son of a bitch…

"I don't suppose she's buried down there or something?" Dean asked mostly to interrupt his own thoughts.

"Like things would be that simple."

"Right. Well…"

"The last victim, Patricia Henderson came back at night after visiting that day, and threw herself over. She was a veteran, been out about eight months, but there was nothing on her service record that would indicate that she was suffering from PTSD or anything. Still, we should go visit her friends and family, see if she was depressed beforehand or not."

Dean nodded absently. "Sure," he said, turning away and walking back to the car.

Sam frowned as he trailed behind his brother as he felt like he had spent his life doing. Dean led and just expected that Sam would follow. Dean had spent the time since Dad's death broken open like an egg and still, he refused to give up any control to Sam.

But still, Dean wasn't Dad and Sam needed to remember that. Dean did listen to Sam, did change his mind when it slapped him in the face (see the vampires that didn't eat people). And Sam had to admit that so far he had not given Dean any reason to think that he could be responsible. Sam's tendency was to run away, to keep secrets and try to handle things on his own, a trait which was disturbingly reminiscent of John. Even though Sam had saved Dean from Gordon when the hunter set a trap for Sam, it wouldn't have happened if Sam hadn't just disappeared. So maybe this whole confiding thing ran both ways. He hadn't always been willing to listen to Dean, cutting him off when it suited him.

Back in the Impala, Dean found them a motel and after dumping their stuff, they went in search of another diner. Sam noticed that Dean removed the hat before entering there. But Dean was still closed off and silent even though this time their waitress was a middle-aged woman.

"You're still not eating."

Dean sighed in frustration and rubbed a hand down his face. "I'm tired, Sam. Would rather have a nap than food at this point."

Sam nodded absently, not buying the excuse in the least. John used to say that feeding Dean was like putting gas in a car, it just gave Dean more energy. The only times that Dean didn't eat were when he was really, really upset. And that right there might be the answer Sam was seeking.

He finished his dinner, this time he was really hungry, watching as Dean scanned the diner's inhabitants nervously time and again before returning his gaze to the table top and the wrecking of his burger.

After paying the bill, Dean drove them back to the motel with a sinking heart. He had talked himself into a corner and he knew it. His constant excuses of being tired meant that he would actually have to go to sleep and that was something he didn't want to do. Besides he felt kind of wired.

Once in the motel room, Dean had another decision to make. He wanted to take a shower, but he was afraid to, afraid to take a goddamn shower. And Sam was staring at him like he wanted to talk…

Making a quick decision, Dean grabbed the new sweatpants and practically ran into the bathroom, closing the door like he never did just to brush his teeth. He tried to draw it out as much as possible, brushing for the full two minutes because he knew that there was no getting out of this talk.

Eventually he re-emerged, wearing the sweats and a t-shirt and grabbing the tv remote before flopping down on his bed. He turned the tv on, but it was no use because Sam just turned it off before sitting on the bed Dean was lying on.

"Dean, look you can't just ignore this."

"Ignore what, Sam?" Dean's voice had that note of long-suffering that Sam found insufferable.

"Ignore what happened! Ignore that you were drugged and raped." Sam finished on a quieter note.

"I don't know where you get that, Sam. I wasn't raped, he didn't hold a gun to my head."

"But you were drugged."

"Look, it doesn't matter. I was careless and…"

"You're wearing sweatpants, Dean! You have never worn sweatpants in your whole life."

"That's what this is about?! God, Sam, they're just sweatpants! You wear them all the time."

"We're in the middle of the South. And the hat and the dressing in the bathroom and not eating and **ending **things between us just like that."

"That's what this is about? Because I decide we shouldn't have sex anymore? It's for your own good. I _cheated_ on you. I was keeping you from finding someone else, someone you could be with forever, that you could have those 2.5 kids with."

"I don't want someone else, Dean. I want you, all of you."

"Well that's not an option."

With tears filling hazel eyes, Sam reached out a hand toward Dean's face, but predictably, Dean jerked away before it even made contact. With a choked breath, Sam went to his own bed. He lay down on his side away from Dean and tried not to sob like a little girl. Dean was the one who had been hurt. It was a natural reaction for Dean to shy away from touch after what he had been through and as of the moment, Dean hadn't let anyone else touch him either, but Sam couldn't help feeling like it was him that Dean was pulling away from, like it was personal.

Dean turned the television on, trying not to look at Sam's tense curled form, trying not to feel guilty. He didn't want to hurt Sam, but what else could he do? He had to push Sam away, had to let Sam find someone else, someone worthy. He had to stay strong, be the older brother and protect Sam, he couldn't afford to break down.

It was still early and Dean flipped the tv back on, hoping to find something to occupy his mind, something so that he didn't have to sleep. Eventually, Sam turned onto his back and watched as well. Dean got out of bed and flipped off the lights, hoping that Sam at least would soon get some sleep.

_Author's Note: So I have a question, is Sam being too self-aware in this chapter? I don't normally think of him as being the most self-aware character but to help Dean, I need him to act slightly out of character. What do y'all think?_


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: To my anonymous reviewer: Don't worry I've got the research covered. I even used my school's library to access peer-reviewed medical journals. There isn't a huge amount of information out there and what is usually suffers from small sample size and response bias, but it was still very interesting and useful. Which is why I feel more confident about Dean's reactions than Sam's. You're right that in the second season Sam wasn't as lost and cynical as he is in the fourth season, however, he did already tend to deal with things by running away and keeping secrets. Also I think that the problems he has in the fourth season had been a long time coming with his long-running insecurity with control. Basically, I don't want to entirely forget about his issues as a character just because I've introduced a new traumatic event._

_And to get: Dean has definitely closed off. The fact that he's still in denial (as a lot of men are for a long time after being sexually assaulted) is keeping him from being able to move on and seek help. I think that also it's making it difficult for Sam to grasp exactly how serious the situation is. You're right that eventually Sam is going to have to go out of his, and Dean's, comfort zone to help. _

_In the show, Sam pushed Dean, and backed off, and pushed, and backed off both after John died and about the deal and about hell. I'm sort of using that as a model as I don't know whether Dean would handle being pushed all the time. However, eventually Sam is going to have to do something drastic to break Dean out of his denial and I just wanted to make sure that Sam was aware of his own insecurities prior to that point in the story. _

_Also, hopefully the flashbacks aren't annoying y'all. I'm continuing them to show how invasive they are to Dean's thoughts and life. I'm trying to raise this to the level of PTSD._

It was early morning before Dean finally fell into a restless sleep with the tv still on. Fortunately, Sam had conked out about an hour after their 'discussion'. It was another nightmare that woke Dean after only two hours.

_Matt was kneeling over his face, forcing his hard length down Dean's throat. Dean choked, gagging on the smell of the man's arousal as much as the man's dick hitting the back of his throat. _

"_God, your fucking mouth, those lips, of course you'd be great at this," Matt moaned as Dean convulsively swallowed, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down even as Matt's hands tugged at Dean's neck to force a better angle…_

And just like that Dean was awake and gasping for breath. He rolled onto his side immediately, swallowing just like in the flashback so he wouldn't start dry-heaving and wake Sam.

When the urge to vomit subsided, Dean was still left trembling from the adrenaline surging through his veins, the lights from the television playing across the lids of his closed eyes.

What the fuck was wrong with him? How long was he going to keep reliving that night in Technicolor? He was fine for now, but if he never got a decent night of sleep…

No, he couldn't think like that. He just had to focus on what was important, on the case, and keeping Sam safe. All that was wrong was that he had extra time in the mornings now, extra time that he needed to fill to keep his mind off of his dreams.

Sitting up, Dean rubbed a hand over his face. He could either do some research on Sam's computer or go ahead and take his shower. He didn't want the noise of the shower to accidentally wake Sam, but if he was going to end up taking another thirty minute shower, maybe it would be better to get it out of the way while Sam was asleep and not worrying about him.

Maybe he could get away without a shower, and thus without reliving his nightmare again. It wasn't like he'd done anything besides ride in the car since his last one. Pressing his nose to his armpit, Dean figured that though he didn't smell great, it wasn't that bad. He would just put on some extra deodorant and one of his new hoodies. Yeah, that should work.

That decided, he took the clothes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change. He didn't shave either, figuring that a little extra stubble was manly. Then he sat at the table and opened up the laptop.

Sam was right that though the legend of Noccalula Falls was well-known, there were no specifics to the story. Dean looked up more information about the latest victim, name and addresses of her parents, husband, and friends, and how long her tour in Iraq had been. Dean practically hit the ceiling when the alarm actually went off.

Blinking back into awareness to the shrill beeping of the alarm clock, Sam sat up before flailing out one arm to shut the damn thing off. Rubbing at his eyes and then swiping a paw through the tangle of his hair, Sam then noticed that Dean wasn't in his bed, but rather at the table and already dressed.

After having spent his share of sleepless nights after Jessica's death, Sam recognized Dean's distress. Obviously no matter how Dean said that _that night _was nothing, something was keeping the older hunter awake at night. Then Sam had begged Dean to give him space, to let him work through his grief. Then also, Dean had mostly been a comforting presence. He remembered how little he had wanted to hear Dean's advice or attempts to talk about it.

He wanted to give Dean the same kind of space, but Sam didn't know whether Dean was dealing with it on his own terms, or not dealing with it at all. He understood how to his control freak, never show weakness brother that admitting another man had taken advantage would be difficult, embarrassing, but Dean refused to admit that they had had anything more than consensual sex.

Dean still said that he had cheated on Sam, used that as an excuse as to why they couldn't be together any more. But Sam knew that there was more to it than that, and sometimes he couldn't help being the pushy little brother.

"Up early again?"

Dean's only response was to jab his thumb in his eye as if he could push a headache out that way.

"Dean, I'm just worried. You've drastically changed your behavior and if it isn't about that guy, then what is it about?"

When Dean looked up at Sam, it was with green eyes that seemed traumatized. Since Sam had left Stanford, he had come to recognize exactly how expressive Dean's eyes were. It had taken a while to realize that Dean wasn't just Dad's perfect soldier, that there were emotions hidden in those captivating eyes, emotions that Dean had been forced at far too young an age to push down in order to get things done, in order to take care of Sam, to protect Sam, to fulfill their father's never-ending orders and expectations.

But Sam had never seen this look.

"Sam, I don't want to talk about it. It's just been a bad couple of days, ok?"

Sam nodded. Dean had asked for space, for time, and he would give it to the older hunter. For now.

"Come on, get dressed. We've got stuff to do."

Sam trudged to the bathroom, feeling weighed down with worry and regret, feeling responsible for Dean in a way that he had never felt for anyone before. Dean needed him, more than Jessica ever did. Dad's death and his last words and now this, it was definitely time to stop thinking about Sam and what he wanted out of life and his revenge on the demon and his psychic abilities and, for once, focus on Dean.

He showered and dressed quickly. It wasn't until after that he really looked at Dean. Dean was wearing a hoodie for God's sakes, and his hair looked like it hadn't been washed nor his face shaved. It was becoming obvious that Dean didn't want to be seen as attractive.

Dean interrupted his thoughts by getting up and shutting off the computer. Grabbing his coat, Dean asked, "Drive-thru ok for breakfast?"

"It's fine."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dean only nibbled at his breakfast sandwich, but gulped the steaming hot liquid like coffee was the ambrosia of the gods. Sam was thankful that at least something hadn't changed.

When they pulled up in front of the last victim's parents' house, Dean couldn't help but be apprehensive. Being around people, even Sam, made him…agitated. And he had never been that great at comforting the bereaved, anyway.

Dean let Sam do the talking. They were pretending to be two guys that had served in Iraq with Patricia so at least they didn't have to wear suits, which would have made Dean even more uncomfortable. And the husband was there so they didn't have to go chase him down later.

Unfortunately, they didn't get a lot of information. As far as they knew, Patricia hadn't been depressed or suffering from post-traumatic stress prior to her death. Her husband had been out of town that week and she had gone to the park with friends of hers who had kids.

They got the name and address of the friends and headed out. The two friends, Kim and Jimmy Roberts lived in a yellow two-story house with their two young children. They were only too happy to invite two servicemen into their home.

The brothers were seated on the couch while Kim brought them fresh mugs of coffee. Jimmy was seated in the armchair to Dean's right and Kim, after serving them the coffee, perched on the arm of her husband's chair instead of the second armchair in the room.

"Always nice to meet other military men," Jimmy smiled as Kim rolled her eyes. "I was in the army as well, discharged about a year ago now. That's how we met Patricia actually and then, she and Kim became great friends."

The married couple exchanged sad looks, before Jimmy continued with the expected, "It was a real shock."

"So she didn't seem to be depressed beforehand?" Sam queried. "When she left Iraq, we didn't hear about anything being wrong."

"No," Kim responded quickly before looking to her husband for clarification.

"She never mentioned anything to me. I've certainly seen men and women who came back with varying levels of post-traumatic stress but, as far as I know, nothing like that happened to her."

"Nothing strange happened that day at the park?"

Kim looked to her husband again before answering. "No. She spent the day running around with the kids. We even took them on the train ride. The kids really had a great time with her."

The woman's brown eyes filled with tears that didn't fall as her husband squeezed her hand.

"And she and her husband? They were happy?"

A flash of emotion in Kim's eyes told both hunters that her next words would be a lie, or at least not the complete truth.

"Yeah, they were great. Let me see if I have some cookies to snack on." Kim was already getting up babbling in her nervousness. "I'm sure we do if Beth and Mikey haven't eaten them all."

She fled the room for the kitchen again. Sam stood right away, as well, excusing himself to help the lady.

Which left Dean alone in the living room with Jimmy. It was ridiculous the sudden spike of alarm that went through him. Sam was just in the next room, within shouting distance.

Dean stood, feeling like sitting made him look like a target and needing to move instead of fidgeting. He pretended to look at the pictures on the nearby bookshelf.

Unfortunately Jimmy stood as well, crowding up behind Dean so that the hunter could feel the man's breath on his neck. Jimmy was only a little shorter and well-built, well-trained.

Unaware of the discomfort he was causing, the man reached past Dean, his arm brushing Dean's shoulder as he picked up a picture that contained Patricia and her husband, already starting to tell the story of the day it was taken.

"She was…"

But Dean couldn't help jumping away from the touch and the perceived threat. Pressing his back into the wall, Dean couldn't stop his breath from becoming short, panicked gasps, his heart beating a too-fast rhythm in his chest.

"Hey, are you ok?" Jimmy's hand reached out to grip Dean's shoulder.

But it wasn't Jimmy that Dean was seeing, it was _Matt_. It was _Matt's _hand reaching out to him, reaching to inflict more pain, more humiliation, to touch and stroke and penetrate him. And again, Dean was helpless against the assault, weak as a newborn kitten due to the drugs.

"Don't," Dean pleaded, slapping the hand away feebly. "Stop…"

But the man was backing up, holding up his hands in the gesture of submission.

"Hey, it's ok. I won't hurt you. Whatever happened to you, you're not there, ok?"

Slowly Dean came back to reality, the glaze leaving his eyes to focus again on Jimmy standing in front of him. Jimmy not _Matt._

Seeing this, Jimmy ran a nervous hand through his hair. Obviously thinking of how mental illness, even PTSD, slipped through the cracks of the VA system, he said, "Son, you need help. Are you waiting for an opening to see a psychiatrist? Dammit, I know they're full, but I can't believe they'd turn you away like this."

Taking a deep breath that even to his own ears sounded like a sob, Dean focused firmly on the _now_. "What? No, I'm…"

It was then that Sam came back into the living room, Kim following behind, having heard nothing of the drama that had just played out.

Dean's heart stuttered in relief and gratitude as he laid eyes on Sam and he took the opportunity to make a hasty exit.

"Sam, we're leaving," he said it like an order, already heading towards the door, keeping a safe distance from Jimmy as he did so.

"What? Dean, what's going on?" Looking back at the couple apologetically, he asked, "What happened?"

But Dean had already left, long before any explanations could be given and Sam had no choice but to go after him. Dean went immediately to the Impala, the older hunter moving around to the driver's side and jumping in.

Sam was confused but above all he was worried, frightened because Dean looked panicked, shaking with the force of his breathing.

"Dean, what happened? Did Jimmy do anything?"

All Dean could do was shake his head in answer. Ruthlessly he forced his shaking fingers to start the car and grip the wheel. He had driven this car with severe injuries, with his father in critical condition next to him, with a killer truck hot on his heels, he could drive it now.

"Dean, you're scaring me. Say something."

"What, Sam?"

"What the hell happened back there? You ran out like a bat out of hell."

"Nothing. It was time to go, they didn't know anything."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Dean. You were freaked. What happened?"

Dean answered this time in a softer tone, responding to the anxiety in his brother's voice. "Nothing. He just…said some things and I took them the wrong way."

"Said what kind of things?"

"He was just too close and I over-reacted, ok? For a second, he reminded me…he reminded me of _Matt_ for a second."

Sam reluctantly nodded. Jimmy and Matt didn't look a thing alike, but he supposed that a motion or a mannerism could be similar.

"It's just…look, I'm still sorry about that. I never meant to hurt you, Sam."

"Dean, you're the one that's hurting."

"Look, I'm just upset, and guilty, about everything. We should never have…You deserve so much more, Sam. It was just me being selfish."

"Why do you get to decide what I deserve?"

"Because I'm the older brother and that means, I'm smarter and wiser than you." Dean forced a grin.

"Dean…"

"Come on, Sammy. What'd you find out from the wife?"

Sam scowled, but he knew arguing wouldn't get him anywhere at this point. He knew Dean would just say 'Focus on the case'. Not that Sam had never used that one like when he didn't want to talk about what he had said to Meg when they had run into the demon in Chicago.

"Patricia cheated. She slept with someone else while her husband was away for the week."

"Hmm the plot thickens."

"According to Kim, Patricia was really upset about it, said it was a mistake and that she loved her husband."

"Doesn't really sound like the ghost's MO, not if it's Noccalula."

"No, but maybe it's not her. In any case, we should go see about the other victims. It could be a pattern."

Absently, Dean nodded as he pulled into the motel's lot.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Notes: I'm so sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I know y'all probably thought that I had dropped off the face of the earth but I will try to be better. Anyway, I just wanted to tell y'all that while this story seems to be going nowhere fast, there is a plan for this fic. But I want the story to go slowly. It may seem like we're going over the same emotions, the same scenes again and again, but I want you to feel the repetitiveness of Dean's feelings, how they trap him. I'm using the DSM-IV's definition of PTSD which requires that the symptoms be prefaced by an incident in which the person felt helpless which is how I'm making this incident different for Dean. The symptoms are severe enough that the person's life and work are impacted and the person attempts to avoid places and things and situations that remind him/her of the incident. _

They were back at the motel, but Sam realized then that his stomach was very empty. It was late afternoon but they hadn't had lunch in favor of going straight to the Roberts' house.

"Hey, how about we go get some food." Sam suggested.

Dean just shook his head wearily. "No, I'm pretty tired. Why don't you go and I'll do some research or nap or something."

Without waiting for an answer, Dean was sliding out of the car and closing the door behind him. Sam sighed, but decided to let his brother go, sliding over behind the wheel. The fact that Dean wasn't eating was really starting to worry him. But he knew that he couldn't in any way force Dean to eat and if he tried, Dean would probably just dig in his heels harder.

What Sam really wanted was to get on the computer and do some research. It was clear to him that what had happened with Matt was seriously screwing with Dean's head, something about the experience was different than all the other traumatic experiences that Dean had experienced in his short life.

But Sam hadn't been able to get on the internet, not only because Dean was always on it, but Dean was always around. Sam didn't want to look up something like that with Dean in the room, but Dean had been getting up early, going to bed late. The older hunter didn't want to be the one to go get them food, spending more time in the motel room that Sam had ever known him too.

What Sam did know was that Dean would first need to accept what had happened to him before he could even begin to move past it. And things would probably get worse before they got better when Dean did acknowledge that what had happened had not been just a _mistake_, not just an _accident_.

Meanwhile in the motel room, Dean was pacing the short length of the small room. He couldn't believe that he had freaked like that. They were on a case, for God's sake. Dean well knew that freaking out, letting his emotions get the better of you could lead to death. And if he was off his game, it wouldn't just be his death, he could easily get Sam hurt.

One major problem was the not sleeping. How could he possibly be in control when he wasn't able to sleep for more than a few hours a night? He could easily get some sleeping pills but he didn't want to because they had in the past made him drowsy for hours after he had woken up. There was one other thing that had always helped him sleep though, alcohol. Alcohol also had the added benefit that it didn't take as long to wear off as long as he only had a little, only enough to help him sleep, to quiet those memories in his head that seemed to be taking over his mind.

Satisfied with his decision, Dean settled down at the computer. He wanted to take another look at the victims now that they had new information about the latest death.

Sam re-entered the motel room to find Dean not in bed, but again at the computer. He set down a bag containing a greasy burger and fries, but Dean didn't even look up at it.

"Hey, I think cheating is the common link between the victims. It seemed like the second victim, Peter Brady, wonder how much that kid got teased for that name, his wife had filed for divorce because of his bed jumping ways."

Sam sat down at the table, trying to switch his focus from his brother's problems to the case. "Really? What about the first victim?"

"Well that's where things get really interesting. Seems like she may have been suicidal, at least, according to some of her friends."

"Hmm, maybe we should go talk to these friends tomorrow. I got that burger for you if you're hungry."

"I'm really not."

Sam tried to restrain himself from taking that burger and forcing it down Dean's throat. "You've got to…"

"Sam, just leave it." Making a decision, Dean stood from the table, grabbing his keys and his jacket. "I'm going out, be back in a while."

Sam stared after his brother even as the door shut, cutting off his view. He couldn't help but remember the last time that Dean had gone out, out to a bar by himself. But he knew that Dean wouldn't appreciate Sam trying to baby-sit him, dogging his every step. Still he thought it odd that Dean would want to go out to a bar after that. The mind was a funny thing, he supposed.

Mentally preparing himself, Sam pulled the computer over to where he sat at the table. Finally, maybe he could find something that could help.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The Impala pulled up outside a liquor store. He went in, already knowing what he wanted. He purchased a couple bottles of Jack Daniels, before hurrying back to his car.

He didn't want to go back to the motel in case Sam was staring out the window looking for him, so he drove instead to an abandoned lot and put the car in park. He felt completely ridiculous. Sitting there in his car in a parking lot, drinking whiskey out of the bottle like he was a teenager out with his friends drinking liquor stolen from his parents. Except that he was an adult, drinking alone and his Dad had let him drink since the first time that Dean had gotten hurt on a hunt at twelve.

Still, he couldn't think of any other way, so he took another swig and then filled up his flask. He hid the rest of the bottle wrapped in a paper bag and a dirty t-shirt and then stuffed it underneath the back seat. The other bottle he would take into the motel with him and keep in his duffel. It's not like Dean didn't keep liquor on hand so Sam wouldn't think too much of it.

Then he drove back to the motel, taking another swig from the flask before going inside.

Sam quickly closed the window he was looking at as he heard the door open. Dean hadn't been gone nearly as long as Sam would have thought. Sam had found a couple of websites that talked about what symptoms the victims might have from intense nightmares and flashbacks to sexual dysfunction and identity crises. Unfortunately he hadn't been able to find out much about what he could do to help Dean. Most of the pages simply said that he should encourage the victim to seek professional help.

Yeah, that wasn't going to be an option, Sam thought. For one thing, Dean would never go for it even if he weren't in denial, which he was. But secondly therapy was based on honesty, on trust. How would Dean be able to benefit from therapy if he were hiding the entirety of his life.

Dean wouldn't be able to talk about his childhood, wouldn't be able to explain his current lifestyle, his relationships with his family. He wouldn't be able to discuss his feelings about their father's death because most therapists wouldn't understand Dean's guilt that their father had sold his soul so that Dean could live. It seemed hopeless.

Sam let himself have a moment of pity. Dean was normally the person that Sam turned to when he was overwhelmed. Dean was the person who always had a plan when Sam was overcome with the need for vengeance, when he was overwrought with emotions. Dean was the person who bailed his ass out when Sam took off on some hare-brained scheme, when Sam was convinced that he knew better and that he didn't need a partner, didn't need Dean's input or blessing.

But he couldn't turn to Dean now, because Dean was the problem. Sam hadn't had Dean to turn to at college but Sam hadn't needed Dean at college. He hadn't needed Dean's encouragement for his schoolwork. And he had had friends, people who thought that fulfilling their parents wishes for them to be successful was the most important thing, just like Dean except that Dean had almost died several times trying to live up to their father's expectations.

Trying to seem casual, Sam watched as Dean stowed a bottle of Jack in his duffel and then flopped onto his bed. It was still early so Dean grabbed the remote off of the bedside table between the two beds and flipped on the tv.

Sam debated for a moment simply angling the computer screen away from his brother and continuing searching, but he could only imagine how Dean would react if Sam got caught up in reading something and Dean sneaked up behind him. It was a scenario which was all too likely considering how Sam got when he was reading or researching and how sneaky Dean could be.

So instead, Sam got up and sat against the headboard of his own bed. "You didn't go to a bar?"

"Nah, we've got some cash for the next couple of days at least," Dean replied. In reality, the question had Dean asking himself how much cash they did have. Enough for a couple of days but…he would have to hustle sometime soon. And to hustle, he'd have to go to a bar. A bar with people, people being loud and rowdy and looking at him and talking to him and brushing up against him.

Dean made a concerted effort to slow his breathing before he started to hyperventilate. If it had to be done, it had to be done and he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

In an attempt to distract himself, Dean searched desperately for something interesting to watch on tv. Eventually it got late enough that Dean made another trip out to the car, using the excuse of getting another knife to drink several more mouthfuls from the bottle there. Then he went into the bathroom to change into the sweatpants, taking a swig from the flask just to make sure.

He hadn't eaten a lot that day so the alcohol was definitely beginning to make him feel warm and fuzzy when he crawled into bed then. For the first time in a long time, Dean relaxed into the mattress, putting the remote back onto the bedside table for Sam.

Sam relaxed too, seeing Dean finally settle down to sleep at a reasonable time, particularly because they would be up late no doubt the next day. He was happy enough about it that it offset some of the longing he still felt. Sam wanted to be in that bed, wrapped around Dean, but he knew that he had no hope of that. Dean had only let Sam hold him after sex and there was no way that Sam was even going to suggest anything like sexual activity in the foreseeable future. He turned off the tv settling down himself after setting the alarm.

Unfortunately for Dean, his self-medicating didn't last the whole night. Dean woke just before dawn, gasping and trembling, but this time he couldn't recall the dream. Based on how he felt though, panicked and disgusting and _helpless_, he could well-imagine what he had been dreaming of. And on top of it all, Dean had a hangover, his head pounding, stomach churning, and the taste like something died in his mouth.

Great, Dean thought. Still he had to admit that focusing on how physically shitty he felt did distract him from how emotionally wrung out he felt so maybe it wasn't a complete wash. He even managed to doze some more as he lay there concentrating on his headache, before his anxiety and his bladder chased him out of bed.

After relieving himself, Dean leaned on the sink in the bathroom, taking care to keep his head bowed so that he didn't have to look at his reflection. He knew that he would have to take a shower today and that he should go ahead and do it while Sam was still asleep. He didn't want to though, really didn't want to.

Dean wanted to avoid anything that reminded him of that night, avoid showers and mirrors and bars and people. He wanted to drink himself back into a stupor and crawl into bed.

Taking a deep breath, Dean went back into the main room and sluggishly dragged out a change of clothes before heading back into the small tiled room. He stripped swiftly, hoping that if he could just get in and out quickly that there wouldn't be time for him to feel vulnerable enough long enough to trigger those memories. But with every article of clothing Dean lost, he just felt more and more exposed.

Dean jumped into the scalding hot water. Even the feel of his own hands on his skin made him remember _his_ hands, made Dean feel again that pain and humiliation. His breath began to speed up, but he was too caught up in his memories to try to calm himself. It spiraled out of his control so fast…

_Dean could feel the bruising grip of big masculine hands on his hips, pulling him back into each burning, tearing thrust. He felt full, violated, torn apart and he thrashed, kicking his legs out, trying to push himself up with his arms. He cried out to the one person who was still alive to help him…_

"Sam!"

It was his own shout that brought Dean back to himself. His breathing was still loud to his own ears, but he tried to listen over it and the sound of the running water to hear if Sam had been woken by his shout. After a moment, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and began to wash his hair quickly.

He was almost done when Sam called his name, "Dean?"

The concern in his little brother's voice made Dean curse under his breath. Trying to sound calm, Dean replied, "It's nothing. I almost busted my ass, but I'm fine."

Dean could still hear Sam. The other hunter had to be right outside the door, but eventually, Sam said, "Ok," and moved away.

Breathing a sight of relief, Dean steadied himself before shaving, feeling like he had to make an effort to be presentable after scaring Sam like that. He got dressed in the hot and stuffy bathroom, his clothes already melding to his body before the day had even gotten started.

When Dean exited the bathroom he was not the least bit surprised to find Sam sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing his concerned face. Dammit, Dean thought. Another slip, another moment where he wasn't in control, where the memories were controlling him. When would this end? When would he be back to normal?

"You're up early again," Sam said.

Thanks for stating the obvious, Dean thought. His only verbal answer was a grunt as he sat on his own bed and began to pull on his shoes and socks. He didn't look up as Sam passed by his bed on the way to the bathroom.

Sam showered quickly. He was beginning to feel anxious every time that Dean was out of his sight. He was always wondering what Dean was doing. Of course, he worried when Dean was right next to him too because Dean's behavior was so out of character.

Coming out of the bathroom in a towel per usual, Sam was confused at the sight of Dean seated at the table, not on the laptop, seemingly just engrossed by the plastic tabletop and the thrumming of his fingers against it. Dean didn't even seem to notice that he was out of the shower until Sam sat down across from him.

"You ready?" Dean asked, looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes. It was pretty obvious that he was dressed and ready. "Yeah, let's go."

They drove over to an apartment building. The first victim was Candace Whitley, a young woman in her early twenties who worked as an administrative assistant and lived with two roommates. They walked up to the third floor of the building to their apartment.

Dean felt his anxiety growing with ever step he took. Just thinking about the fact that he was going to be stuck in a small space with two unknown girls who would undoubtedly be looking at him like _that_, that familiar look, made Dean start to breathe harder. And the whole thing was made worse because it would be in the girls' apartment, their territory.

Sam definitely picked up on the tension thrumming throughout his brother but he had no idea what the cause was or what to do about it. So he kept quiet. If Dean were having a bad feeling about this, he would say something.

The door opened to reveal a tall, thin brunette who looked the two brothers over with an appraising eye. But her face quickly transformed into a satisfied expression and, there it was, that look in her eye, that come hither, sultry smile.

Dean ducked his head, immediately reaching for his fake badge to avoid the woman's eyes. Sam, still confused by this sudden aversion to women Dean had, picked up the slack. He smile big, wide, and hopefully genuine as he flashed his badge.

"Police, ma'am, we have a few questions about your roommate Candace."

The woman opened the door wider, inviting them in with the smile still in place, before it changed to a look of confusion. "The police…?"

"Well, in light of the other deaths."

"Oh, ok. Tiffany," she called. "Come here." She then gestured for the men to take a seat on their couch.

Tiffany was shorter, slender with large boobs and she gave the men the same interested look as the two girls sat in the loveseat across from the couch. Sam didn't even seem to notice as he simply began the interrogation.

"Did Candace previously suffer from depression?"

It was the tall brunette, Sam thought that he remembered her name being Bridget who answered. "It was news to us." She shared a look with the blonde beside her before continuing. "But her mother said something about her being in therapy before at the funeral."

"But you did think that she was suicidal before her death?" Sam queried.

"Well, we didn't think that she was serious. She was just upset over breaking up with her boyfriend. He cheated on her while he was on vacation in Florida."

"Did she threaten him at all?"

"She threatened everybody," Tiffany chimed in.

"Yeah, she was just railing against life in general, and cheaters in particular." Bridget continued.

Sam nodded. "Well, thank you for your time. I think that was all the questions that we had."

Dean stood, still feeling uncomfortable in their apartment but at least as long as Sam was talking neither woman had paid him any attention. But now that they were leaving he caught them both staring after he as he followed Sam out the door. As soon as the door closed behind them, he took a deep breath of relief.

"So," Sam began as they made their way back downstairs to the car. "It looks like the first victim wasn't a victim at all."

Dean forced his brain back onto the matter at hand. "Yeah, seems like. And we know where Candace is buried, it was printed in the same article where the roommates said that she was suicidal."

"Good, then we're set. I'm hungry. Let's find somewhere to eat."

Dean sighed, but kept his mouth shut. He knew there wasn't any way to get out of it without telling Sam exactly how he had been feeling and he was just hoping that if he didn't complain, then Sam would leave him alone.


	14. Chapter 14

Lunch that day was just as miserable as the day before, for both of them. Dean still acted like a skittish colt, like he were going on an expedition into the jungle rather than walking into a diner like he had millions of times before. He was tense, looking around as if something was going to pop out and get him but not meeting anyone's eyes.

Sam may not have had a lot of time to research on the internet, but what he had found was making him analyze Dean's strange behavior. It worried Sam on two levels. As Dean's brother, Sam was worried for Dean's self-confidence, for Dean's happiness and Dean's ability to interact with other people. Sam worried about Dean's ability to do the job and how that would impact Dean's self-image.

But Sam was also worried as a man who had lost his lover. Dean's shame about the attack, his self-blame showed Sam that Dean wouldn't cheat on Sam, that he understood that what they had was monogamous. Their relationship must have meant something to Dean, something important.

Sam worried that he would never get that back. He worried that he had lost something important, that something amazing had been stolen away from him as well.

When Dean again only picked at his food, Sam found himself analyzing the older hunter's behavior. Was Dean trying to control his eating habits or did the man simply feel sick, did Dean have physical symptoms to match his emotional ones?

And Sam himself felt overwhelmed. He felt more like a child since he had when he first arrived at Stanford, alone for the first time, scared that he had made an irreversible mistake and that he wouldn't be able to hack it in the 'normal' world. But this time he had more than just himself counting on him, he needed to be responsible for Dean as well. As Dean had been responsible for himself and Sam all his life.

Since Dean had retrieved him from his burning apartment building, Sam had learned a great deal about his brother, things that he hadn't known despite living with Dean for the first eighteen years of his life. He had gained a new perspective on how tough things had been for Dean when they were growing up, but this, this was more insight into Dean than perhaps Sam could handle.

Despite that Dean would need energy to finish the hunt that night Sam didn't badger the other man. Because Sam couldn't help Dean, until Dean decided that he needed help. And Sam was afraid that it would take something drastic for Dean to admit that.

The silence was pervasive and strained as Sam ate his meal and then they hopped back in the Impala. Dean drove them back to the Impala, but he didn't get out like Sam did after he had parked.

"I think I'm gonna drive around for a while," Dean explained.

Sam opened his mouth, about to offer to go with him, but Dean had already put the car back in drive and so Sam had no other choice but to quickly close the door. He watched as Dean drove off. He supposed that he had indeed gotten what he wanted, time alone with the laptop, but suddenly research seemed less important than being near Dean, than being there for Dean.

Dean also wasn't feeling so great about leaving Sam behind and he had only driven about a mile away. He wanted to hide so much from Sam, but in the end, he wanted to be near Sam just as much. He didn't want Sam to find out how helpless he had been, didn't want Sam to reject him, be disgusted by him any more than Sam already was. Dean wanted Sam's acceptance, but his fear was greater.

Dean drove around town feeling empty and alone. Normally, even if his family didn't pay him any attention, didn't notice his feelings as they were too busy caught up in their dramas, Dad with his quest for revenge, Sam with his dreams of getting away, Dean could find solace in the attentions of a stranger. Dean was noticeable and he played it up. There was always someone willing to flirt with him if not someone to go home with him. But now, now he didn't feel comfortable with anyone's attention, not Sam's, not anyone's.

He felt more alone than ever.

Eventually Dean called Sam and then went through a drive-thru to get Sam some food. He felt torn about eating himself, the pain of hunger now rivaling the clenching nausea that wouldn't go away. In the end, he got himself a burger, knowing that they had a full night ahead of them.

And Sam was slightly mollified to see him eat something. They watched tv for a while, each on their own bed. Dean was excited for the coming hunt. It was his only distraction at this point except for drinking…alone. Hunting was his favorite emotional outlet.

Sam on the other hand was dreading going out that night. With Dean's behavior so erratic, he wasn't sure what to expect. And the research that he had done had only served to frustrate him more. Everything implied that partners should not 'rush' the 'survivor' in the process of healing. Partners shouldn't monitor food consumption or make a big deal of it. They should be supportive but shouldn't feel guilty for not being able to help more, because the 'survivor' would pick up on their feelings of guilt.

The whole thing seemed rather ridiculous given their unique situation. Thinking of Dean as a 'survivor' was as strange as thinking of him as a 'victim'. Dean had _survived_ hunting all of his life, had _survived_ being electrocuted, shot, tortured, attacks from vampires, werewolves, ghosts, demons, etc.

What Sam wanted was somebody to tell him what to **do**. He wanted to **do **something, but apparently he wasn't supposed to think like that. He was supposed to support Dean while the older hunter healed at his own pace. Not that 'support' was defined anywhere…

They were both about to jump out of the skins by the time it was late enough for them to be on their way. Dean turned off the tv and stood, his face a grim mask hiding away his emotions as he was used to doing.

"You ready to dig yet another grave?"

Sam groaned as he was expected to.

Dean huffed a tense laugh, "Let's get on with it."

Dean drove them to a graveyard. The front gate was locked so Dean had to get out and pick the lock and then Sam helped to push open one side. Sam closed the gates after the Impala had driven through, just in case someone drove by but he didn't take the time to put the chain back on.

They both dug their shovels into the plot, keeping an eye out to their surroundings. For a short while, it was easy, well, as easy as digging out six feet of dirt could be.

But, of course, the ghost herself showed up. Must not have been any cheaters at the park that day, so she wasn't busy at the place of her death. Dean was only too ready to grab his shotgun and blast her away though.

That left Sam to hurry up and dig naturally. Unfortunately, the girl was smarter than Sam would have given her credit for. After Dean fired at her a second time, she reappeared further away, not physically attacking them, but verbally.

"You're just like them, you know. You cheated!" She screamed at them.

Sam sucked in a horrified breath, but Dean gave no visible sign of response to her yelling. Sam hoped that Dean knew that ghosts didn't differentiate, just like Bloody Mary had blamed him for causing Jess's death. She hadn't differentiated between purposeful acts and accidents.

But Dean wasn't thinking rationally. He clenched his jaw at her words, burning with rage. He knew what he had done. He didn't need some dead bitch spelling it out for him, particularly in front of Sam. Besides cheating didn't entitle her to kill people.

But she kept yelling. "It's your fault, Dean! You ruined it! You betrayed his trust, broke his heart!"

That was all that he could stand to hear. Without thinking, he rushed forward at her, aiming the shotgun just as she disappeared. Dean was too angry and wasn't able to turn around fast enough. The ghost threw him away like a rag doll.

"Dean!" Sam yelled. He was almost to the coffin and couldn't afford to leave to go find his brother. He needed to get to the body and destroy the ghost before she could do any more damage.

Dean had hit his head on the side of a gravestone and blood ran down the side of his face, getting in his eye and making it difficult to see. He hated how head wounds bled. But it wasn't the first time that had happened to him and he had managed to hold onto the shotgun.

He scrambled to his feet, aiming his shotgun immediately and dispelling the hateful thing with a bang that was only partially satisfying.

"Sam?!" Dean yelled, running back to the grave. "Hurry up!"

Sam was already climbing out. "Done. Where's…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence because Dean was already pouring in the salt. Sam grabbed the lighter fluid, spraying the open coffin with it just in time as Dean threw in the match. Dean was definitely in a hurry. They stood there watching the flames for a long moment. Sam still felt slightly panicked. He had known that this wasn't going to go well, though he hadn't exactly predicted this.

Then he turned to Dean, catching sight of the blood covering his face. Sam immediately reached a hand out to check the severity, but Dean flinched away violently.

"Not now, Sam. Let's get out of here."

Scowling, Sam followed Dean's form back to the car. "You're not driving. You could have a concussion and the blood could obscure your vision."

"Fine," Dean threw the keys at Sam.

The drive back was quiet, the air inside the car thick with tension. Sam was afraid to break it, but he had to say something.

"Dean, you know she was wrong, right? You didn't cheat on me…"

"Are we going to have this conversation again, Sam?"

"Yes, because you're not listening. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't you who hurt me?"

"Then who was it, Sam? She was right, I betrayed your trust…"

"No, you didn't."

"It was my decision, Sam. I stayed at that bar after I already had the money, I accepted the drink, I…"

"You didn't _decide _to have sex with him. You said, 'no'."

Dean made a strangled sound. Sam knew that it was the first time that they had spoken of the fact that Dean had not wanted to have sex with the man, that he had been forced to do things against his will. Sam now knew that Dean was seeing it as Dean hadn't been strong enough to fight him off, hadn't been smart enough to know that something was wrong before things got out of hand. Dean expected everything of himself and this incident only showed that even he wasn't perfect. It was undoubtedly a hit to Dean's ego and self-image.

Dean didn't reply except for that inarticulate noise. Sam stole glances at the other man to see that Dean was staring out the window, wiping the blood away from his eyes so that he could see.

The older hunter didn't know what to say, he didn't want to talk about that night. He couldn't agree that he had said 'no' because that would be to admit how helpless he had been, how his own stupidity had let to him not being able to control the situation. But neither did Dean want to lie and say that he had wanted to have sex with someone other than Sam. He had already hurt Sam enough with this _relationship _of theirs.

Dean dashed out of the car as soon as it was stopped. Sam stepped into the room to see Dean scrounging in his bag, presumably for the medical kit. Sam reached out a hand, trying to see the actual wound which was difficult with the way that head wounds bled.

To his surprise, Dean freaked at the contact. "Don't!"

Sam didn't even have time to reply as Dean was staring at his hand now smeared with Dean's blood. Then Dean was grabbing Sam's wrist where it was covered by the cuff of his over-shirt and dragging him into the bathroom.

"Wha…Dean?"

"Wash your hands! Did you have any cuts on your hands? Fuck! I don't see any…Sam, did you?!"

"No, I didn't. I even wore gloves to use the shovel. What is your problem?"

At Sam's response and seeing Sam's clean hands for himself, Dean relaxed, slouching against the sink's countertop and rubbing one hand over his face to clear his vision of blood once more.

Instead of answering Sam's questions though, he issued an order. "Don't touch any of my blood, Sam."

Sudden understanding came over the younger man. "Do you have something, Dean?"

"I don't know! It's too early to be tested."

"He didn't use a condom."

"I don't…" Dean took a deep breath. He didn't want to tell Sam any of this, but the younger hunter deserved to know if they were going to keep working together. "I don't think so."

Sam looked down to see his own hands gripping the edge of the sink, his knuckles white. He had known, but he had forgotten in the rush of everything going on, of Dean's strange behavior.

Sam's mouth opened without his permission, working the situation out verbally as he was wont to. "It's only been a couple of days…"

"I know. Just…don't touch me, ok? I'll get tested, I always do."

Sam let out a long, slow exhale. "Ok. Barring any unforeseen circumstances."

Dean scowled at the condition Sam included to his agreement, but he knew he wouldn't get anything better. "Get me the med kit."

Sam nodded, glad to have something to do. He returned to the bathroom and watched Dean fiddle with the cut, ignoring Dean's obvious displeasure at being observed. Sam left the room when Dean had to strip off his over-shirt because it was blood stained. He returned with one of Dean's new hoodies and Dean seemed grateful, bundling himself in the fabric like a child.

Sam reached out an arm to stroke down Dean's covered forearm, not put off by Dean shaking off his hand and pushing past him out the bathroom door. He followed the older man, sitting on the edge of Dean's bed while Dean was seated against the headboard.

"It's safe for me to touch you, plus it's through cloth," Sam said.

"I know that," Dean replied, glaring.

"Well, then what is it? Because I'm not going to stop. I want to touch you and I'm going to until you can give me a reason not to."

"We can't…"

"How many times am I going to have to tell you that _this_ is not about sex, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "At least one more time," he quipped.

Sam sighed good-naturedly, reaching out to squeeze Dean's arm reassuringly again. "Your knowledge of movie quotes astounds me."

That got a reluctant smile out of the older man. Counting that as a win, Sam got up, saying, "I'm beat." He turned off the overhead lights and crawled into his own bed.


End file.
